


The Lights of Arcadia Bay

by TexasDex



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drugs, Episode 5 spoilers duh, Extremely slow-burn Chasefield, F/F, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sacrifice Chloe Ending, Self-Harm, Suicidal Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 93
Words: 187,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexasDex/pseuds/TexasDex
Summary: Max made her decision and saved Arcadia Bay.  Now she just has to live with it.New chapter every Friday.





	1. Lights

**Author's Note:**

> My first published fanfic, still updating faithfully every week after over a year of writing. I do plan to conclude it, maybe sometime around chapter 90 or 100 depending on how things work out.
> 
> The writing gets better after the first ten chapters, and those chapters are pretty short, so hang in there. I'm still working on improving my writing, so constructive criticism is always welcome.

Arcadia Bay stretched out before Max Caulfield, a sea of orange-yellow street lamps punctuated by the occasional lit window. An early November chill bit through her PJ bottoms and the jacket she'd thrown hastily on. She tried desperately to imagine the families below; smiling parents and innocent children sleeping peacefully, but the faces were always fuzzy, and her mind kept fixating on another face, a face with piercing blue eyes and hair to match. A face that she could picture clear as day. A face that she never saw alive in this reality.

Chloe died, Nathan confessed, Jefferson was caught, Kate never jumped. So the door to the peak of the Blackwell dorm roof was still left unlocked. She'd woken with the usual nightmares and snuck up there. Staring out over the tiny city she'd saved from her own meddling didn't help. The thought that she'd done the 'right' thing should have made her feel better, but she wasn't even sure of that anymore.

It had been hard the first few times she'd sat up there, but seeing Kate's face in class every day had started to displace the memory of her standing on the ledge over there. Her violin, played every evening at 4, comes to mind before the crunch that meant Max failed.

She leaned forward and glanced at the ledge. A sudden impulse gripped her, and she forced herself to look away. _Jesus no. Can't do that. Not to my family, and friends, and..._

 _It'd solve a lot of problems though wouldn't it._ The voice was hers, but not. Like in her nightmare diner, the voice of every dark thought she's had all month. _Didn't really think this through did ya? Sure, be all noble and give up your girlfriend for a town you barely care about. Then what? You have a dead crush and a weekful of memories that could get you committed even if they _did_ happen. Oh yeah, and now you're bi._

Max leaned back against the ductwork, making a thunk that reminds her where she is. On a rooftop. Of a school where a teacher drugged and kidnapped students. In a reality where Chloe is dead and buried in the ground. She can almost see the cemetery from here, but not quite. And then came tears.

 

 

The stairwell door opened with a loud chunk, and a sliver of light broadened to illuminate the other side of the roof. _Shit. Busted._ Part of her mind knew always she'd get in trouble for sneaking up here, but the awful feeling in her stomach was from the thought that they'd lock the stairwell.

Then Kate Marsh stepped out from behind the door. She looked sad and scared as she looked into the darkness at the ledge.

_No. Not again. I can't save you._

 

As Kate's eyes adjusted she saw a figure, huddled next to the edge, shivering slightly. "Max?" No answer, but she could see that Max heard her. "Are you okay?" Still nothing. "I heard you... wake up." _Screaming_.

"Max... I'm really worried about you. You seemed okay but then after the funeral you... shut everyone out. I haven't seen you back in Photography once, even though Mrs. Cameron's a wonderful substitute and-"

"I let her die."

"Max, you couldn't ha-"

"Don't. Just... don't say anything. Just listen to me." She chose each word carefully. "I could have saved her. I'm sure of it. There's so many things I could have done. I could have shouted something to distract him, or pushed the janitor cart at him, or... just pulled the fire alarm. But I just sat there and heard them shout and then the gunshot and... She was my friend and I let her die."

"No, Max. You-"

"SHUT UP!" She cried at Kate. "That's all everyone says. Not my fault. I don't want that. I don't need that!"

"I don't understand."

"You can't."

Kate walked toward her and saw the lights surrounding the bay below. "I can see why you've been coming up here. It's really beautiful at night." Then she turned and sat down beside the ledge, facing Max. "I lost a close friend a few years ago. There was a boating accident, and..." Max looked away. "I know that's not the same but you're not alone. You need to talk to somebody."

Max replied, her voice close to breaking: "I can't."

"You can always talk to someone. Miss Gibson helped me so much after... everything that happened." Max's eyes stayed fixed on the town below. "You could make an appointment with her. Or just talk to me." Still no reaction. "Please. Is there anything I can do to help?"

After a long silence, Max finally choked out two words, barely loud enough to hear above the wind blowing through the few brown leaves that still clung to the trees: "Just go." Kate didn't move. "Go away or I'll throw myself off the goddamn ledge!"


	2. Paper Memories

Max woke up, on top of her covers, with a sick feeling in her gut. _Didn't need to be so rough on Kate. Wish I could have kept her away without being such a bitch._

 _Plus I bet that little outburst earned me a call from the counselor. Joke's on her though._ Max hadn't charged her phone in weeks.

The first week had been easy, at least according to her journal. Without any memory of her time with Chloe, her death was sad but not so deeply affecting. And thanks to her photo meddling, she didn't even remember the gunshot. Totally natural, Miss Gibson had assured her, given the traumatic event. A talk or two with her and she had accepted that death is a part of life and blah blah blah. Managed to act fine for her parents' visit, gave her condolences to Joyce and David, yadda yadda. Her real memories had hit her just before the funeral, but you're supposed to cry at funerals, so nobody thought twice.

At first she'd stopped hanging out with friends, but it's not like she had friends here anyways. Only lived here a month and her shy indie kid shtick is hardly suited for that.

Then she started skipping class. Just the ones that don't take attendance at first. And she couldn't go back to photography class of course. Days were mixtures of internet binges, solitary walks, napping at all hours, and that one math class that she hated but couldn't miss. _Eh, I can miss it today._ Max thought as she sat up in bed.

She scoured the local news sites and blogs looking for anything out of the ordinary--strange weather, Prescott conspiracy theories, but of course there was nothing. Not even any more news on Mr. Jefferson or the investigation. A few handfuls of cereal from a bag she'd snuck out of the cafeteria passed for breakfast, and then on to distract herself with mindless TV.

Halfway through her fourth episode of _House_ there was a knock on the door. Max ignored it. It came again, louder. _No way in hell I'm answering. Miss Gibson can just go fuck herself._ The doorknob rattled, and then stopped. There was a pause, then footsteps of her leaving. _Good. Good riddance._ Her last thought surprised her. _Wow, angry much? Why not put up a no trespassing sign, blast some loud punk music and..._ and she starts crying again at the reminder.

 

It felt like she'd keep at it forever, but eventually her tears dried up. Max barely had the energy to get out of her chair, but the bathroom beckoned. The effort required to change into actual clothing seems insurmountable, but it's past noon and it'd be rude to advertise her deep depression to her classmates. Yesterday's clothes will do.

As she's pulling on jeans she notices something out of place: a square piece of paper, folded and slipped under the door.

A few minutes ago she might have hurled it at the wastebasket unread, but all the anger had been drained from her.

"Max,

Please talk to me. I know you're strong enough. I want to listen.

\--Kate"

_Shit._


	3. Never Happened

She'd left for the rooftop while Kate's violin could be heard in the hall, hoping that she wouldn't hear her sneaking out. That gave her a while to sit, cry, stew, and even drift off for a little while, unperturbed by dreams, until she awoke to the sound of the door opening again. Kate again.

 

"I'm sorry. I just wanted somewhere quiet to sit."

"Me too," Max replied, but managed to keep the edge in her voice to a minimum.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'll go if you want." After no response from Max, Kate turned back towards the exit. She'd almost reached the door before Max relented.

"Wait." Max looked out over the town. The last few orange rays of sunlight hit the underside clouds just off the coast, and the halo of purple sky silhouetted the lighthouse in the distance. For some reason she really didn't want to be alone. "The sunset is really beautiful tonight."

"Would you like me to watch it with you?"

Max nodded. They spent a few moments looking silently to the west. When the wind was just right they could hear the train going down the coast, and the occasional screech of a seagull.

"I've been having nightmares." Max was surprised at her sudden admission, but continued. "About things that never happened." That was safe enough to admit. And it was true. After she'd gotten inured to dreams of things from other timelines her subconscious had gotten horrifyingly creative.

"What kind of things?" Kate asked, afraid of the answer but steeling herself.

"Like... finding Rachel Amber's body buried in the junkyard." That was a safe thing to start with. It was all over the news. "Digging her up, and the smell, and Chloe sobbing and screaming." _Shit_. Max silently rebuked herself for slipping up and mentioning Chloe, but Kate didn't seem to notice.

"That's awful."

"I've dreamed about Mr.Jefferson... taking me down to his bunker." She kept her gaze averted but watched Kate for a reaction out of the corner of her eye. If mention of the dark room bothered her she didn't show it. Time to go all in. "I watched you jump off the roof. Right off this ledge. I couldn't stop you. I couldn't! I tried to, I..." Her gaze finally meet Kate's, and she was surprised to see a look of fear on her face.

"Max, I'm here. I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't! Things were pretty dark for me last month but I'd never do that."

Time to backpedal. "I know. It's just a dream. It just... felt so real. Like, I can picture every fold of your clothing, every raindrop." 

Kate froze for a second at the last word, then managed to compose herself. "I have nightmares too. Miss Gibson called it PTSD. Most of them are from the party or... after it. But my memory is still fuzzy, and sometimes my imagination is just being cruel. I'm afraid to be around people sometimes. Talking with her helped a lot though. Maybe-"

"I'm not talking to her," Max interrupted. _I can barely talk to you._

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

"I just... don't feel like I can trust her."

"Well I'm touched that you trust _me_ Max. I just don't know if I can help you."

 _Nobody can help me_ , Max thought. But before she could say it she glanced at Kate. Their eyes met and Max couldn't bear to deny hope to her troubled face. "If anybody can, it's you." For a moment Max even believed it herself.

"Thank you for letting me."

Eventually, when the last traces of the sun had vanished and the wind had picked up, Max said "I'm cold." and turned to leave.

"Wait." Kate interrupted. "In... in the nightmare where I jumped off the roof, what were you wearing?"

"I..." _What the hell?_ "My gray hoodie, and..." Max knows the shirt. She sees it every time she looks in her closet. "a white t-shirt with a doe on it." A shirt she hasn't worn since. _Why would she want to know that?_ she wondered as she descended the stairs.


	4. No Emojis

As the fourth episode of Breaking Bad finished, the glow of the sunrise began to seep through the closed blinds. It looked to be shaping up like a quiet Sunday. No reason for Max to leave her room.

All the napping and irregular sleep was finally taking it's toll. Max had tried to go to sleep at a normal time, but couldn't. When she finally gave up and grabbed her laptop to put on more TV she found she couldn't stay awake for even half an episode. She woke to find that she'd missed most of the series finale of House, and it was suggesting she start watching another show. _Sure._ Four episodes in she wasn't sure she cared much about it, but the fifth one started playing automatically, and changing it would require too much effort.

 _Guy probably dies at the end just like the last show_.

But it's something to occupy her mind, and she welcomes it.

By the umpteenth episode the ache in Max's stomach can't be ignored any longer, and she's out of cereal. According to the clock on her laptop, the cafeteria should be closed by now, and the bus to town doesn't run today. The thought of starving to death in her dorm room doesn't disturb Max as much as it should, but then she remembers the birthday money, sitting untouched in her account, and wonders if that one pizza place would deliver to the dorm room.

The name escaped her, and she had to look it up. Apparently there's only one pizza place that delivers in all of Arcadia Bay: Fresco's. _Guess that's the one._ But they only take orders via phone call. _Nevermind I guess_.

But Max finally mustered up the courage to plug her phone back in, dreading the dozens of worried texts from friends and parents that she was sure were on there. She was releived to only find four. Then she was depressed.

Two from Kate, echoes of things she'd said on the rooftop. "worried about you". "please remember that people care about you".

From her dad, a long text that was really an email--he even signed his name at the bottom, who does that?--that suggested she come home to recover from the "incident".

A final text from Warren, from weeks ago, before he'd given up asking her to things.

Then she went through older messages, from the week of the funeral: support and solidarity from her small circle of friends and family. She kept scrolling down, searching more and more anxiously until she remembered: In this reality Max's phone didn't even have Chloe's number in it.

She tossed it back onto the dresser too hard, and it slid off and fell to the floor. When she knelt down to retrieve it she noticed a slight crack in the corner of the screen. _Shit_ she thought, and without thinking she held her hand over it to rewind and fix it. After a second she recoiled from what she'd tried to do. _NO REWINDING. The cost is..._ Then she realized it hadn't worked. She tried again, harder, desperate to know that even if she shouldn't, she still could. Time, which before had bent to her hand, kept marching on. Max croaked out a single word: "Chloe..." and then broke down.


	5. On Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess I'm updating every Friday now?

It was raining again; a cold, slow rain that had lasted all morning and would probably continue all night too. Yet Max found herself on the rooftop with Kate again. Her gray hoodie was doing a poor job of keeping her warm, and water ran in rivulets down her face.

Kate held Max's hand tightly, and cried. They looked over the ledge into the courtyard, and then, together, took a leap into space. Max hit the pavement with a hard smack, and tried to move, tried to scream, but her body and voice failed her, until she realized she was still in her dorm room, lying facedown on the floor next to her cracked phone because she hadn't had the energy to get back into bed.

_That's a new one_ , she thought numbly to herself once she regained her senses.

She heard a faint knock and, just as faintly, responded: "Yes?"

The door opened a crack, and then far enough for Kate Marsh to poke her head in and see Max on the floor. "I heard you waking up again. Are you okay?"

_Oh god this room is a mess._

Piles of clothing lay on the floor. Even more papers than usual were piled on and around her desk, and her bed was unmade, even though she wasn't sleeping in it. The selfie wall had a huge empty space right in the middle, where her past self had placed the photo of that fucking blue butterfly, along with some scrapbook-style memorial to Chloe. She'd torn it in half and threw it at the wastebasket the moment she saw it. One half had missed, and lay on the floor in the corner. The other half was under a pile of junk food wrappers and tissues that overflowed the can and cascaded onto the carpet. Lisa was long shirveled to a husk.

Everything that had made her so worried about Kate that one morning, but this time in her own room. "No," she finally answers. _Not okay_. She sat up and leaned back against her couch.

Kate sat on the bed and faced her. "I just had a bad dream too. I'm kind of freaking out about it."

"At least you have an excuse for it, right? I'm all fucked up for no good reason."

"You saw a friend die. You've taken it really hard but that's okay. It's just, I've been working on healing."

"And I'm not?"

"I didn't mean it that way. But you're avoiding people who just want to help you, and I don't understand why."

_She's right of course. I keep this up I'll probably end up smeared on the sidewalk like in the dream._ Maybe it's time to take a chance...

"Before I explain, I need you to promise me something."

"Of course Max."

"It might be kind of hard to believe. It might not be logical or have any evidence. I just need you to listen and not question it, and not tell _anybody_. I need you to trust me that when I feel ready it'll all make sense."

"I understand Max. You need me to take it on faith."

_Of course._ Max had almost forgotten that was a thing other people did. Folks like Kate were rare in Seattle, and her parents had raised her without ever taking her to church. _Maybe I should start. Some guy parting water and rising from the dead 2000 years ago is way more believeable than the shit I've been through._

"I've been acting like I hadn't seen Chloe since I left for Seattle years ago, but that's not true. We reconnected about a week before... before I let her die. She was mad at first, cause I never got in touch, and her life'd been shitty after her dad died, but then we were best friends again, like the last five years never happened. We tried to solve Rachel Amber's dissappearance together. And sometimes we just hung out, listened to music, and..." _and fell in love._ Max had no idea how Kate would react to that, so she didn't voice it.

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I can't really explain it but..." and then she saw the perfect chance. "I loved her. Like, we were in love."

"You mean...?"

"Yeah. I'm into girls I guess. Or at least her. Realized that when I kissed her the first time. She dared me to, as a joke, and I went for it, as a joke, and..."

Kate clearly needed a minute to process it.

"We snuck into the pool together one night. Yeah, can you believe that? Max Caulfield, breaking and entering? She was kind of a bad influence, but in a good way, if that even makes sense. Like, she got me out of my shell."

"Why do you need me to take that on faith? I don't doubt for a second that you loved her, the way you've talked about her it makes so much sense. I'm sure people would understand."

"Nobody ever saw us together. I don't have any texts from her or anything. As far as the rest of the universe knows, all that never happened."

"Like the dreams?"

Max's stomach turned over in her chest. _Too far_. "I... please... not now." _I'm not ready yet._

"Okay."

Something Kate said earlier suddenly registered in Max's mind.

"Oh god, I'm such an asshole."

"What?"

"You told me you had a nightmare and I just kept blabbing about how I have it worse."

"Oh. Please don't worry about me, Max."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Actually I think I'm feeling okay now. I think just taking with you helped a lot. I should probably get back to sleep though. Class tomorrow."

Max nodded "Thank you" and climbed under her covers for a dreamless sleep.


	6. Objective Lens

"Light." Victoria had the same self-satisfied look she always had when getting an answer right in class.

"Exactly. Without light there'd be no photography. Even if you're not thinking about it, every time you take a photo you are collecting light, bending it and shaping it onto your film."

_Figures the first time I come back it's a technical lecture._ Max had arrived early, and picked a spot in the far corner of the photography classroom, behind the old PC. _I should have just skipped again, I already know this shit._

"Now, who can tell me one of the three things that you use to control exposure?" Pause. No response. "Alyssa?"

Max sunk further into her chair and gave a silent thanks that she was spared.

"Film grain?"

"Close. It's called film _speed_ , and it's measured in ISO." She tapped a button and an example photo appeared on the monitor. "Higher ISO means the film takes less light to expose, but it also tends to have more noise." Another tap, another example. "What else?"

Victoria again: "Shutter speed."

_Bet she actually read the chapter._

"That's right. With just a little bit of light, you can still get a photo as long as you're patient. For example, I took this photo using nothing but moonlight." A photo of a window appeared, with a soft blue glow coming down to illuminate a teddy bear on the windowsill. "The downside is that everything has to stay perfectly still. If you don't, you get..." she summoned a photo of cars streaking down a darkened highway. "Motion blur. Now, who can tell me the last factor?" No volunteers. "Kate?"

Kate clearly didn't know the answer either, and looked uncomfortable.

"Aperture," Max answered, then instantly regretted it.

She could feel the class staring as they realized she was there. _Yep, depressed hipster loser Max is back. Eat it up bitches._ She felt their pity, their embarrassment, their discomfort; all things that Max really didn't want.

Even Mrs. Cameron paused for a second before continuing the lecture. "Yes, thank you Max. The aperture is a part of the camera that lets you control how much light gets in..."

Victoria and Taylor were stealing glances at her and whispering between themselves. Courtney was just flat out staring. Even Alyssa looked back a few times in concern. But the lecture continued on, about things Max didn't care about, and things her camera couldn't even do.

 

Max sat and watched as the rest of the class gathered their things and filed out. Kate smiled weakly at Max once or twiceas she packed her bag, but thankfully didn't try to talk. Even Mrs. Cameron left her alone. Finally, only Victoria was left, quietly sitting at her table and writing in a notebook. Max slunk away from her desk discretely, and was almost out the door when a voice interrupted her.

"Max, we need to talk."

_Victoria_. Only a slight tremor in her voice had betrayed her usual self-assured demeanor.

"I know you've been avoiding me. I get it."

"I don't think you do." Max has actually been avoiding _everybody_ , but if Vic wants to take it personally why not?

"No, I swear, Nathan and I are through. I haven't even gone to visit him once."

"Exactly. You think I'm still mad at you for some shit your old boyfriend did? Why don't you take a look at yourself instead?"

"He's not my boyfriend. Never was. And anyways, what did _I_ do to you?"

Max leaned on the back of a chair. "Plenty, but that's not what I mean." Victoria looked confused and more than a bit taken aback. Maybe she'd expected some easy 'please forgive me' and done. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Which just proves my point."

"I- I just wanted to apologize," Victoria stammered.

"Well you suck at it. You're not even saying it to the right person." Walking out of the room after saying that, Max felt the best she had all week.

But the feeling lasted only a few seconds before an image of Victoria, drugged, bound, and scared on the floor of the dark room, flashed through Max's mind, souring her mood as she headed towards the cafeteria to steal more cereal.

 

Max walked back to her dorm room through a minefield of memories. She hurried quickly out the main entrance because she couldn't bear to even look in the direction of the bathroom. Avoiding the parking lot was easy at least, since it's on the other side of campus, but then there's the poster she and Chloe hid behind on the way to break into Blackwell.

She would've made it just fine if not for the corner of a Rachel Amber flier still sticking to a tree in front of the dorm. After dozens of times walking past and not feeling, in that instant she wanted to burn every memory she had of Chloe, of their week together, of everything she'd undone. Every thought that causes nothing but pain, because of what she did. _I was happier before I remembered_.

 

Her dorm room has something that can help her forget. It was easy to buy since she'd learned Frank's code phrase from Nathan. A broken panel on her speaker slid off to reveal her meager stash. Only one joint left but she needed it, now. She felt a moment of selfish anger at Frank: _Police ask a few questions about Rachel and the coward just eats his gun. Where the hell am I going to get more now?_

Whatever reckless things Max had been doing recently, there was no way she'd light up in her room. The roof wasn't private enough either, and everywhere else she could think of just reminded her too much of... everything.

Luckily the woods behind Blackwell was unexplored and unoccupied, and the brisk wind meant that nobody was in the courtyard to see her slink off past the totem pole into the trees.

It was a good day for a walk in the woods. Warmer than last week, and without the ocean breeze or clouds. Patches of sunlight reached through the canopy and speckled the path before her. It would've made for some nice photos, if she had bothered to bring her camera.

After a good half hour of wandering, Max came upon a small clearing, with grass, dead leaves, and a few wildflowers surrounding a rocky patch of the hillside, not big enough to afford a view of anything but the sky. She found a tolerable spot to sit, on a rock next to a tree, and reached into her bag to pull out the joint and a lighter.

Her shoulders rose as she took the first draw from it, and felt the usual muted euphoria, mingled with a sense of calm. She rested her back against the tree and exhaled. The smoke quickly dissipated in the wind, and her consciousness soon followed.


	7. Scarlet

Max's room shared a wall with the bathroom, and whenever someone used the shower stall at the far end, she could hear the water running through the pipes. It had been on for over thirty minutes, keeping her tossing and turning in bed at 2AM, and it was starting to get on her nerves.

_Whoever the fuck that is, they're taking one hell of a long shower._

Ten minutes later she could still hear it, and it was driving her irrationally mad. Her anger gave her the energy to get out of bed and march down the hall to give them a piece of her mind. She opened her door to find the word "DYKE" spray-painted in red on the door across from hers. Victoria's door. After a moment of shadenfreude Max felt bad. She didn't deserve that.

Thick steam condensed onto Max's cool hands and face as she entered the showers. "Isn't there a drought or something?" Max paused for a response but got none. "You've been in there for half an hour. If you're not clean by now you're not ever gonna be." Still no answer.

Max eyed the sink and thought of how Victoria had interrupted her first Blackwell shower. She walked past the sinks toward the shower, turning each Hot faucet all the way on. _Shame this building is so old_ , she thought devilishly. But the expected scream didn't come. A few seconds later and still no scream, but a rock starting to form in Max's stomach. She brushed it off. _Maybe Smauel fixed the plumbing. Maybe somebody left it running as a joke. Maybe..._

The cold, clammy air from the shower hit her as she walked toward the curtain. _No way anybody's in there_. "I'm coming in."

She threw the shower curtain aside but it wasn't empty. Victoria's body sat in the stall corner, nude, unmoving, and deathly pale save a few streaks of red leading up to a deep red cut in her thigh.

There was no more blood coming out of the wound, no way she was still alive, but Max knelt down and reached out to her anyways, ignoring the droplets of water that splashed around her. The moment her skin touched the body she felt an electric jolt, and then she found herself coming to in the clearing in the woods behind Blackwell.

_Holy shit!_

That wasn't a nightmare. It wasn't some PTSD flashback. It was a vision, like the ones she'd had the week with Chloe. _It's going to happen. Victoria is going to die. Unless I do something about it_.

She pushed her horror and shock aside as best she could. _I need to remember details. It was night. There was the slur on Vic's door. No idea what date it was. I would have noticed if the posters had changed a lot right? So it's probably soon. Shit._

Her mind turned to the part she could recall most clearly. The image of Victoria's body was seared into her memory with a branding iron, every detail sharp as a photograph. She was sitting in the corner, facing right at Max, but her head was at an unnatural angle, and her wet hair was covering her eyes. Even in death she looked beautiful in a way. Her skin was perfect as always, and her nails were a carefully manicured red. The cut bisected a tattoo Max hadn't even known about, an intricate black lace design on her right hip, just small enough to be hidden by a bathing suit.

_Wasn't there something metal on the tile floor? Like a razor? Not sure. Does that mean she killed herself? Or... Fuck._

Max's mind raced as she hurried back to the dormitory. _If it's like the vision of the tornado, it can be stopped right? Like I stopped the storm?_

Branches whipped her as she plowed through the brush. _Do I break reality if I save her? What kind of disaster could I cause this time?_ Catching herself on a tree as she stumbled, Max paused and leaned against it. Everything she'd seen ran through her head again and again as her shoulders heaved with each breath.

_Or is this the disaster that I'm going to cause?_ She shuddered at the thought, and started walking back to the dorm.

_How could I even stop it if I wanted to? "Hey Victoria, felt like slitting your wrists lately? Or should I be more worried about somebody murdering you 'cause you're gay?"_

She went through the scene in her mind again. Details were already slowly fading, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that there was an important one that she'd missed.

Above her, on a branch, alighted a blue butterfly. A butterfly that had no natural business on the Oregon coast in the middle of November. _The_ blue butterfly. Its wings caught the last few rays of the sunset filtering through the trees, and glowed.

Max shouted: "What are _you_ doing here?"

A handful of leaves was all she could find to throw at it, but they didn't do much.

"What the fuck do you want with me!?"

Its wings fluttered slightly but it didn't move from its perch.

"Am I just some plaything? Giving me powers and visions so you can watch me suffer? I don't want this. I don't want any of it! I was fucking happy! Then you came along."

Staring at the butterfly suddenly reminded her of the last time she'd seen it. The gunshot that ended Chloe's life echoed through Max's mind, and she felt it in her gut as if it was aimed at her instead. "Next time I have to sacrifice something, it's gonna be me."

It flapped its wings a few times, fluttered around Max, and then was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts and suddenly feeling a little dumb.

_Maxine Caulfield's descent into madness Part #17: Arguing with a goddamn butterfly._

 

Back in her dorm room, Max tried once more to get to sleep. But the more she thought about it, the more anxious she became. The word wasn't on the door across the hall yet, but she could see it, crystallized in her mind, with crude lettering and streaks of red dripping down the frame. _Blackwell's not safe. Even if it's just the graffiti it's still scary for anyone who's... queer is the best word, right?_

She tried to think of students who were but drew a blank, until she came to a belated realization: _I'm queer._ She'd never really thought about what that meant until now, and the world was suddenly a darker, scarier place; the shadows full of people who hated her, wanted to hurt her. For the first time since she'd moved in she felt thankful for the lock on her dorm room door.

The pipes in the wall whistled to life, giving Max another feeling of panic, and she needed to reassure herself that it wasn't happening now, now's not the right time of day.

Then, staring at the source of the sound, Max suddenly knew what detail she'd forgotten: In her vision, there was no hole in the center of her photo wall. It had been occupied by Max's memorial to Chloe, with the intact picture of the butterfly right at the center.


	8. Undo

_It doesn't makes sense._ A long day of actually attending some of her classes had wiped Max out. Not a fun way to take her mind off things but her laptop charger was on the fritz, so no more TV binges for a while. Now, back in her dorm room, she was alone with her thoughts, and she didn't like them.

_The photo's still torn up in the corner of the room. And Victoria's still alive._ She had tried a few times to convince herself that she'd been mistaken. Maybe she'd seen something different there. Maybe she just hadn't noticed it was taped back together. _No. I know what I saw._

It could only mean one thing then. The past was going to change again. _More time travel. Maybe more dead birds and eclipses. Probably more sacrifice. Only one problem: My powers are gone._ She'd tried with a random still life from her wall and failed. Even if she could, there were no photos to jump to; not a single one in her diary since the selfie in class.

_And there's something going on with Kate too._ The last question on the rooftop had been sitting unconfortably at the back of her mind, but maybe now it was another clue. _She must've asked for a reason. Kinda morbid to wanna know what your own suicide looked like, even if it was just in somebody else's "nightmare". Was she trying to see if I was lying? Or is it some kind of after-effect of what I did?_

That question led in a direction Max really didn't want to go. Actual scientific literature on practical time travel and ripple effects was sparse. Which was a nice way of saying _doesn't fucking exist_. She remembered that much at least from the week that never happened. Warren had been pretty much stumped with her occasional vague and hypothetical question after the funeral. At least the "I'm writing a story for English" excuse had passed without too much scrutiny.

_I need more clues._ The closest one was right across the hall.

Victoria's door was still, thankfully, graffiti free. Every time she approached it now she felt a tinge of anticipation and dread, then relief as soon as she could tell it was clean. _Can't even step out of my room without getting Pre-Traumatic Stress Disorder. That's gonna get annoying real fast._

She'd already knocked earlier in the day but there was no answer; presumably Vic was in class. This time there was a strip of light seeping out from under the door, so there was no chance of that now.

It took most of her willpower to walk up to the door. One last moment of doubt: _What the hell am I doing? Having a conversation, on purpose, with my mortal enemy?_

_Wait, no. "Mortal enemy"? Jeez, melodramatic much? We don't have to be enemies._ Her conversaion at the End of the World party had proven that, even if it had also gotten Victoria a special guest appearance in the Dark Room. And the conversation on the steps, where Max had shown her an ounce of humanity and... _I still can't believe I'm doing this_ , Max thought as she knocked.

"Come in." Victoria was sitting on her bed looking at the door anxiously. Her face fell when she saw Max. "Oh. I thought you were Kate."

Max stifled a sarcastic remark just in time. _I don't get any do-overs now. Can't just shoot my mouth off without thinking. Man, this used to be so much easier._

"No, it's me." She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. Victoria's face, alive and full of color again, was a welcome sight, even if it didn't look very happy to see her. "What're you expecting Kate for? Did you...?"

"I sent her a text saying we need to talk, cause I'm too fucking scared to actually go up to her and say sorry." Max had heard that scorn in her voice plenty of times before, but never directed at Victoria herself.

"Scared? You? What, you think she's going to bite your head off? This is Kate we're talking about."

"Almost wish she would. I'd deserve it. What happened to her was horrible. I didn't even think so at first, I mean it's not like she got raped or anything. Just photos. With her clothes on even! I'd've begged for that chance. I practically worshipped the guy, I even... But every time I... every time I think about it, it gets creepier.

"Like... I read his confession in the news. All that bullshit about innocence and drugged models being honest or whatever." Both girls shuddered slightly. "I realized why he didn't take me. Cause I wanted it, and he wanted... someone who didn't.

"I mean how fucked up is that? Makes me feel kinda sick now, and I'm not even the one it happened to. All I did was make it even worse for Kate, just 'cause it was fun. I mean, I even wrote 'Will bang 4 Jesus' on her door once. I was such a bitch and I don't even know why."

_You're not wrong. But if I'm trying to keep you alive that's probably not the thing to say right now._ She wasn't sure what was until she saw a connection.

"I know what it's like to wish you'd done something different... want to take something back. Sometimes you can't. You just have to move foreward, and... be better."

"And apologize?"

"And apologize, yeah. In person."

"I'm still scared. Isn't that stupid?"

"It wouldn't mean much if it was easy."

"Right." Victoria took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Thank you Max. You're nicer than I deserve."

Max left Victoria in her room and crossed the hall to get into bed. She hadn't found much out, but Victoria seemed okay, unlikely to bleed herself to death in the showers. _Maybe I can relax a little for now._

Kate's violin practice started at the usual time, then stopped mid-song. It started again a while later, but a different song, in a major key. This time Max's good feeling lasted till sleep overcame her.


	9. Flash

A bright flash startled Max into a hazy consciousness. Limbs felt heavy. Another flash, so bright that it hurt even through her closed eyes. _Can't move_.

"Yes, just like that. Perfect! Now don't move."

 _Mark Jefferson._ Just from the voice she could picture his face, a foot or two away from hers, staring at her through the lens of a camera, satisfied, smiling, sick.

Another flash. 

Her arm reflexively tried to move to shield her face, but something more than the drugged feeling was holding it back. Panic rose inside but all she managed on the outside was a slight stirring and a moan.

Opening her heavy eyelids revealed the dark room, with Mr. Jefferson leaning over her with a camera. Her hands were draped over a figure lying on the floor in front of her: Victoria's body again, her ashen face inches away from Max's.

The white background made it hard to tell where the curves of her torso ended, but the pool of blood slowly dripping out of a cut across her neck was clear even through bleary eyes.

Victoria gazed through max, her eyes remained dead and unfocused. Max fought desparately to get away from her but her muscles wouldn't respond, until they did and she practically threw herself out of her bed.

 _Just a dream. Just a normal fucking dream._ Max never thought she'd be glad to have a nightmare, but the alternative--a vision--didn't bear thinking about. She leaned against her mattress, trying to calm her breathing, but every inch of her was on high alert, every second of her dream ran through her head, without end, even when she tried to push it away.

The clock said 4:48 AM. Her hands shook as she clambered back under her covers, lamenting the empty hiding place in her stereo. Sleep proved impossible to come by, thanks to the tension in her chest, and her brain's refusal to settle down. Victoria's face from the dream mixed with images of the dark room, and Mark Jefferson's face, and his voice, and her body in the shower stall, and none of them would leave her alone. Chloe joined in, being flattened by a train, then shot in the head, then unconscious on Nathan's floor.

The clock said 5:21 AM. Still no chance of sleep. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ She thought about going to the bathroom, not because she needed to but because it was something to do that wasn't as cold as the rooftop, and lying there in bed wasn't helping. At the thought of leaving her room the slur on Victoria's door jumped to the front of her mind, finally prompting her to sit up and lower her feet to the cold floor, so she could make sure it's still not there.

The air in the girls toilets was frigid, and the seat even worse. Luckily she had no need to use the facility, so her PJ bottoms could stay on even as she sat down on it, head in hands, trying to breathe deeply, every inch of her body still wound and twisted past the breaking point.

_Breathe._

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Don't think about it._ The moment she had that thought the images were back in her mind again. _Fuck. No, that never works. Like that line from Inception about not thinking about elephants._

 _Maybe a distraction..._ A few bits of graffiti sharpied onto the stall partitions provided scant reading material, and it's not like she wanted to know the size of Trevor's penis anyways, but she'd left her phone in her room, so why not.

Then she saw "RACHEL AMBER LIVES", in bold letters, on the door in front of her, and she could almost hear Chloe's anguished crying in the junkyard, _Oh, Rachel, no! Please, not her!_ , almost feel the dirt in her fingernails. And that smell. Sickening, rotting, like nothing she'd ever experienced before, but she'd never forget it, and her stomach turned.

She did her best to sob quietly, because Kate's room was right next to the toilets, and the last thing she wanted was another painful conversation where poor Kate was just trying to help, and poor Max was just trying to not let slip anything that would earn her a room next to Nathan. _Maybe that would be for the best_. Then she wouldn't be able to use the xacto knife in her pencil case. _I could do it, easy, just like Victoria did._ It was scary how temping it was, the thought of making everything stop, and never having another nightmare or vision or... or she wouldn't, she'd chicken out and keep living in this hell forever, which terrified her even more.

It ended, not from feeling better but from running out of the ability to feel; finally all she could do was stagger back to her room and into bed. The clock said 6:02 AM and the first hints of twilight were starting to shine through her blinds, but that didn't stop her from falling right to sleep. Bad dreams came again, but if she never woke up to remember them what difference did they make?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wasn't easy to write. I didn't expect it to be so rough but at this point Max seems to have a mind of her own, and it's pretty messed up. I promise the next few chapters will be less bleak.


	10. Hiding

Max closed Victoria's door behind her firmly. She was sure this was the place to ask, even if it was the last place she actually wanted to be. Victoria seemed to agree, sitting back on her couch cradling her cell phone, with a look that suggested Max was an unpleasant odor. Which could be true, actually.

"Hey, Vic, I'm having hella trouble right now, I was wondering if you could uhh.... help me out."

"Oh." Her tone was flat, and whatever vulnerability she'd shown in their last conversation was gone. _I guess she's back to her usual self._

"I've just been trying to... acquire certain things lately, and I was hoping you'd hook me up. Know what I mean?"

Victoria looked at Max as if she didn't and went back to scrolling through her phone. 

"I wanna score some dope." Vic's eyes remained on her cell phone. "Weed." Still no reaction. "Come on, I know you know what I'm talking about. Grass? Reefer? Doobie?"

_That_ , at least, got a response: "'Doobie'? What the hell is this, a Cheech and Chong movie? And anyways, what the hell are _you_ doing trying to buy pot?"

"I'm just looking for some dank OG bud."

"I don't think you even know what those words mean."

"No, I totally toke. I'm just screwed since Frank was my only hookup."

"Look, my _grandpa_ could tell you've never done drugs in your life before. So this is either a lame attempt to get me in trouble, or some kind of stupid hidden camera prank. Either way you and your hipster-ass Polariod can just go fuck off. And your acting sucks."

_She's not wrong_ , Max thought. _Time to try a different tack._ "Fine. No act, I just want to know who I can buy some pot from."

"Seriously, Max, what the hell are you trying to do?"

"I just wanna buy pot."

"Why?"

"It... helps with my nerves." That's close enough to the truth that Max can make it sound believable.

"Fine. My friend will text you on Monday. Maybe Tuesday."

_A whole weekend later?_ "I, uh, need it sooner than that."

"Need?"

"Yeah. I'm... I've been having trouble sleeping."

"I'm sure you'll live till Monday."

Max isn't so certain. "Please."

"You seriously can't wait until Monday to score?"

It hurt to give Victoria something over her, but Max nodded.

"Got some party planned for this weekend?"

_Shit, this isn't working._ "No. It's not like that!"

Vic's face softened a little. Maybe it was the desperation starting to seep into Max's voice.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Max said, but didn't bother trying to sound like it. If all she needed to do was act messed up then, well... she didn't really have to act, right? "I just get nightmares."

Victoria's demeanor changed in an instant, as if someone had flipped a switch from "bitchy" to "worried".

"Turn around."

Max did as told, examining Victoria's wardrobe. _I've heard of some of these names. Dior. Armani. But who the heck is YSL?_ Behind her, drawers open and shut, and things clicked and clunked around on the desk.

"Here." Vic appeared in the corner of her eye, holding up a small plastic baggie of weed. "There's better stuff than pot for that, but I don't have any of it right now."

"How much?"

"First hit is free."

_What the hell?_ "I don't think that's how it works with weed."

"It totally is. Look, just fucking take it Maxine."

"Max." Hearing her full name any other time--from Victoria no less--would have made her furious, but a weak correction was the only response she could muster up.

"Whatever," Vic said as she shoved the baggie against Max's chest. "Remember, if you're caught with it..."

"Yeah, I know. I'll just blame Frank. Not like he'd object."

"This shit's better than anything Frank ever sold. Make sure you go easy the first time."

"Thank you, Victoria."

"Yeah, don't let it get to your head."

Max turned toward the door, then recalled the other thing she came for. _It's probably not a good idea to ask. It'll probably fuck with my head even more._ But she still wants to read it.

"You said that the news had some creepy statement from Mr. Jefferson. I tried searching for it, but I couldn't find it anywhere. Just statements from cops and stuff. Do you remember what site it was on?"

"Why the hell should I know?" Angry Victoria again. "Fucking creep. I hope he rots."

"So you don't know?"

"No I fucking don't! Just leave me the hell alone." Max did as told.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to resist the temptation to make fun of some ridiculous dialog in the original game. I did not succeed.


	11. Forecast

Today was going to be a good day. Max had woken up at a healthy hour for once, and breakfast was a mug of instant oatmeal rather than dry cereal.

Weeks of apathy were finally starting to catch up to her, and after a few 'very concerned' lectures from teachers Max had a ton of overdue homework and studying to catch up on. It actually felt pretty good as she finished a Math makeup worksheet, and pulled out the next assignment from the stack. English research paper. Due last week, but Mrs. Hoida had been very understanding, so now Max just had to turn it in before Thanksgiving break.

_Damn, I need my laptop for this one._ The charger was fully dead now, and she'd used the last of the battery watching Netflix again.

_I actually feel like getting something done for once, and I can't?_ But then her eyes fell on the mountain of clothes on the floor, which she'd been picking things out of to wear for the last week. _Might as well..._

The pile barely fit in her laundry bag, and took a fair bit of effort to lift, but it would be worth it for some clean clothing. Trudging down the hall, something didn't feel right. The light was different. It took her a few steps to realize why, then she saw it out the window to her left.

_Snow._ She could feel reality breaking apart again, seams tearing, holes appearing, just like it had after her first vision. _What did I do?!_

A minute later she was dressed and knocking urgently on Warren's door.

A voice came from inside. "Just a second!" After a pause and a brief clatter inside the door opened partway and Warren stood there in his PJs, looking confused. "What's up Max?"

"Why is it snowing?" Her voice was a bit more panicked than she intended.

Warren's confusion grew. "Cause it's... too cold for rain?"

"No it's not, I was outside yesterday and it was really warm."

A voice answered from behind Warren: "A cold front came through last night." Brooke was sitting on the side of the bed in Warren's room and Max hadn't even noticed. "It's been in the forecast all week."

Max's panic was quickly being replaced by mortification. "Isn't it too early though?"

"It's the middle of November. A little early maybe but not _that_ weird. I thought you used to live here."

"Jeez Max, did a snowstorm murder your parents or something?" Brooke interjected.

Whatever reaction she was expecting to that remark, it was not the one she got. Max regained her composure, but not before both of them noticed the uncomfortable expression on her face and glanced at each other in confusion.

"I'm sorry... I'm just gonna... bye..." Max rushed to the staircase and ran upwards.

_They think I'm nuts! Freaking out over a few flurries._ She took a second to picture it from their side and couldn't help but chuckle a little. _Well they're not wrong._ She burst out of the stairwell door onto the rooftop, and laughed even more as the freezing air hit her face and tiny snowflakes melted on her nose. Roofs and sidewalks were dark and slick, but the trees to the west had already grown white whiskers on their black branches.

She could picture Warren assuring his girlfriend--because _of course_ they were an item now, how could she not have seen that coming--that Max's family did not die tragically in a snowstorm, and he had no idea what the heck was wrong with her. _And Warren's still in his pajamas. Oh god! I wonder what I interrupted. Poor guy._

The snow was falling a bit harder now, dampening the sound of her laughter, but she kept laughing, could hardly stop, until she could hardly breathe. At some point the laughing itself became funny somehow, and another wave of it came.

When Max was finally done, she walked toward the door only to find that it wouldn't open. The little block of wood Max had shoved in the door latch lay on the roof in front of her, leaving her stuck up there until someone opened it from the inside. She chuckled a little again as she reached for her phone to text Kate.


	12. Blue

"What was Chloe like?"

Max looked up, surprised. Kate had taken only a few minutes to come and let her down, and only stopped for a few seconds to enjoy the view, but it had been enough time to thoroughly chill Max, and Kate had insisted on tea in her room. She'd been enjoying the silent companionship while the water boiled, sharing the couch, and hoping that Kate wouldn't ask "are you okay" or anything stupid like that, but she wasn't prepared for _that_ question.

"I..." Max wasn't sure what to say.

"I mean, I never really met her. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But maybe it will help." Alice squeaked quietly from her cage while Max gathered an answer.

"I knew her since elementary school. Her parents were friends with my parents I guess, I don't even remember why. Eventually we just hung out with each other all the time, and went on adventures. Like, we were pirates one year for Halloween, but after trick or treat we kept the costumes. We must have biked miles all over the north woods and around the lighthouse burying treasure and threatening hikers with plastic swords. She even found a plank once and made me walk it!

"I remember how happy she was... I'd sleep over at her house and we'd talk about fashion and TV shows and watch Powerpuff Girls and Spongebob. She'd tease me about being a Squidward sometimes. Then we'd go downstairs and have breakfast.

"It's kinda weird, but whenever I smell bacon and eggs I think about her. She didn't cook... no, that was all Joyce, but we always ate them together."

"What about the week before she died?"

 _Right_. She'd been acting like that week hadn't happened for so long it was a hard habit to break.

"Nathan picked a fight with me in the parking lot and... she just drives in on her junker pickup, and tells me to hop in. She was so happy to see me even after I left her for five years without so much as a text message. And she was kinda mad about that for a little bit but I guess she had a right to be. She had a lot of things to be angry about since she lost her dad.

"But then I come back into her life and she's amazing. Just a kind of crazy free spirit. Blue hair, bullet necklace, and a skull t-shirt. So punk but awesome. Liked loud music and smoking pot in the mornings.

"She had her own little hideaway in the junkyard. Yeah, the same one where we found--where they found Rachel's... body." The last word took effort to say, but at least it distracted them both from the slip-up.

The tiny kettle finally clicked off, and Kate busied herself making two cups of some tea that smelled faintly of oranges, while Max continued.

"She snuck into the Blackwell pool one night with me. Like, swiped the keys from her stepdad and went for a swim. It was nice, just hanging out with her, and she finally relaxed a bit more. We splashed each other a bit, she teased me about being scared by Jaws, and then we just floated and talked. And she looked really pretty in the pool lights, with her tattoos and the blue hair. And her panties had this awesome design on them, like a sunset with..."

Kate's bright red face suggested that she was not eager to hear more about Chloe's underthings. Max changed the subject.

"We also used David's keys to search the principal's office for clues. Found a bunch of dirt on Nathan, all sorts of crazy stuff Principal Wells had been keeping secret cause of big donations from the Prescotts."

"Wait, were you the one who leaked that to the board?"

"What? No, I... I didn't tell anybody." _Shit, should I have? Guess it doesn't matter now._

"Somebody let that slip, that he covered up Nathan's issues. He's probably going to lose his job over it. It's not official yet but I keep overhearing the teachers talk about it. I think it's just a matter of time before he has to resign. He might even get sued."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Some lawyers have been talking to my dad about it. He hasn't told me any details, but it sounds like there'll be all sorts of lawsuits from all the girls who Nathan drugged."

"I bet the lawyers are really excited."

"They won't get much out of Principal Wells, but the Prescotts have lots of money. And Blackwell too. I wouldn't be surprised if it goes bankrupt after all this."

Max was horrified at the thought. "Is it because of me? Because of what I did?"

"How could you have caused it?" Kate's question was mostly rhetorical, but there was just a hint of curiosity in inflection of the last syllable.

There was so much, but nothing stuck. Failing Kate. Standing by as Nathan got beaten to a pulp. Getting Mr. Jefferson shot. Then arrested. Everything she'd done, she had undone. Her silence was answer enough.

Kate continued: "It was all Jefferson, and Wells, and the Prescotts. They have it coming. People with power and money just do what they want, they don't care who it hurts. They hurt me, and they hurt you, and Chloe and all the other girls who were drugged. I hope they pay for it." Max never thought she'd see Kate in a vengeful mood, but there it was. "I know that's not very Christian of me."

Kate handed Max a mug, too hot to sip but smelling perfect.

"What about Victoria?"

Kate considered her words carefully before responding. "She's hurting almost as much as we are. She's not very good at hiding it."

Max felt slightly dumb, since she'd talked to her and not really noticed. "But she was so mean to you, with the video and everything."

"She's done worse than that. For a while I was even a little afraid of her. But...

"Everything the principal, and the Prescotts are doing is trying to protect themselves, trying to get away with it. They got Nathan a good lawyer, and got themselves better ones. Victoria didn't do that. She came to me and apologized last week. She even admitted to a few things I didn't know about. I could have stayed angry about it. I had every right to hate her but God tells me to forgive those who trespass against me."

"I know she was gonna apologize to you. She tried to say it to me first. I didn't want to hear it. Still don't I guess."

"Max, even if you don't believe in forgiveness, letting go of anger is part of the healing process." She sounded like one of the emails Miss Gibson. Actually she probably _was_ repeating that from therapy.

"It's not that I don't believe in..." Max sighed. "I don't know what the hell I believe in anymore."

"Do you believe in miracles at least?"

"I'm not sure about miracles. I mean, there's something out there, something bigger than us. I know that. I just don't know what. And I know you think God is loving and kind but..." Her voice trembled. "I'm not so sure."

"Oh, Max." Kate leaned toward Max and laid an arm on her shoulder.

She wasn't expecting to be touched, and at first she shied away from it, but Kate's hand did what the tea hadn't, and Max felt warmer.

Max broke the silence with a slight sniffle. "I had a week with my best friend, and everything was amazing, and then it was all just ripped away and none of it mattered, nothing we did or learned made any difference at all." Max took a final sip of her tea and set the mug down on the floor. When her eyes met Kates again she saw something she didn't expect: Instead of sadness or sympathy, a look of realization.

"You figured it out didn't you. That Nathan killed Rachel." She took Max's silence for confirmation. "Is that why you blame yourself for Chloe's death? You and her figured it out, and she went to confront him, with you hiding in the back. Then after he confessed, you didn't need to admit-"

"Please..." Max held her hand up to interrupt Kate. _Could that work? It'd explain how messed up I am without making me sound schizophrenic._ It was agonizingly close, but with each imagined conversation, little holes appeared. Rachel's undisturbed grave, the surveillance tapes and tracking that would show that Max couldn't have met Chloe before she died (thank you Mr. Madsen). And it could fuck up the trial too, suddenly knowing way too much, with no explanation that matched reality.

"I wish it was that simple. I wish I could just admit that to Miss Gibson and she'd help me get over it like a normal person, but in the end it wouldn't work. She'd find something that didn't make sense, or something that she could disprove and then nobody would believe me and things would just get worse."

"I have faith. I've witnessed real miracles, Max. There is nothing that you could tell me that I wouldn't believe."

This time Max didn't doubt it. The temptation was so strong, to just spill everything, and break down crying on Kate's couch, but... _Kate doesn't deserve to be saddled with all this. She just wants to help a friend and she has no idea how fucked up everything is. What if I hurt her?_

"Kate, you're a wonderful friend. I trust you more than anyone else. I hope you'll understand one day. Thank you for the tea, it's been lovely."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, come on Max. You were so close.
> 
> I wasn't expecting this chapter to be so long and involved, and I wasn't expecting it to go in that direction, but I'm happy with how it came out.


	13. Whites

The laundry lay in an awkward pile in the middle of her dorm room, right where she'd dumped it in her hurry to talk to Warren. Her drive to finish it had evaporated, but it still needed doing; she could almost see the cartoon stink-rays coming off of it.

She grabbed one end of the bag and started pulling it down the hall. _Floor is kinda nasty. Probably shouldn't drag it like this. Whatever._ A door opened behind her as she passed.

"Hi Max."

Max turned around to see Dana peering out her door. "Oh. Hello Dana."

She eyed Max's burden. "Want some help?"

"I don't want to trouble you."

"I gotta go switch a load over anyways," she said, and lifted the other end of Max's bag, finally dropping it when they'd reached the laundry room. "I haven't seen you around much lately. How've you been?"

 _Ah_ , Max thought. _Her help isn't free. Time to put on normal-face_.

"I've been doing alright. Busy with class and stuff." Max started sorting whites and darks into the two available washers. "What about you?"

"I've got a game tomorrow. We're playing the Red Devils. You should come watch. And there's a party afterward too." Dana grabbed fistfuls of clothing, pink shirts, and blue dresses, and tossed them into a dryer.

"After what happened to Kate I'm not too interested in that stuff."

Dana looked hurt. "Really?"

 _Wait, what?_ "What's wrong?"

"It's just, after all we talked about, I'm a little disappointed."

_Shit. "Oct 10: Had a great convo with Dana this morning. We will refuse to be scared!" Guess I know what other me meant by that._

Dana stopped halfway through shoveling her laundry and faced Max. "I've been trying to act like I'm not afraid of being drugged or groped like you said we should. It's not easy, and I still get paranoid about what I drink sometimes, but mostly I have fun, and it feels good to know that I'm not letting them win. But I haven't seen you at anything since the funeral."

_Well shit, now I have to go don't I._

"I just haven't felt up to going out a lot I guess. Kinda need some time to myself lately."

"I know that feeling. Rough stuff happens and you just want to crawl into a ball and sleep for a month."

"That sounds kinda nice right now."

"Yeah, but it doesn't help. Not really. Me and Trevor didn't feel better 'til we started getting back out there. Besides, I thought you said she'd want you to go out and live your life instead of moping around and mourning for her."

 _Other me said that? Wish I could be her._ "I guess it's just easier said than done."

"Well I'll make you get out. Watch us beat the Devils tomorrow, no excuses!"

"Okay. I'll be there." _Yup. No getting out of this one. On to an easier subject._ "How're things with Trevor?"

"Pretty good. Chloe's death was kind of hard on him, and then finding out about Rachel right after it... But I try to be there for him when he needs it, and he's doing... we're doing pretty well."

 _Oh. Yeah._ Max had forgotten that Chloe and Trevor were friends. _I'm not the only one mourning. Here I am acting like my world is over and he's fine and he knew her for way longer than me._

Max reached into her bag for the last few things. The only black dress she owned was at the bottom, and she almost tossed it into the washer before remembering it was also the only thing that she owned that had to be dry cleaned. She leaned down to stuff it back in the bag only to notice a bump, in the shape of a bracelet. Odd since none of hers had been missing. Her hand reached inside to retrieve it and felt something she wasn't expecting: metal studs.

 _Chloe._ She pulled it out and ran her finger over the leather like she had at the funeral. It had just sort of appeared on her wrist after the photo jump. Joyce must have given it to her as a memento, but she took it off that night and never put it back on. She could feel echoes of it's previous owner in the creases, and the worn spots on the edges, but now it's just an empty bracelet. All the times she'd held those hands were just, agonizingly, out of-

"What's that?"

Max looked up at Dana, startled. "This?"

"You've been staring at it for like a minute."

"Oh, uh." Max lied without even thinking. "Nothing."

Then she thought about it, and the lie felt like acid in her throat. _She was your best friend._

"It's Chloe's."

"Oh." Dana said, understanding. "You should wear it."

"I'm not sure I want to be reminded of her all the time."

Dana's dryer rumbled to life as she leaned over it.

"Trevor has her necklace. Remembering is rough sometimes, but after a while things... smoothed out. Then you get to keep the happy memories with you. Justin even got a tattoo."

 _I guess I have to now,_ Max thought as she struggled with the snap.

"What of?"

"Butterfly I think. On his arm. Trevor said it looks really awesome." Dana paused then leapt to another topic. "I keep forgetting to give you this." She dug in her purse and fished out Warren's long-forgotten flash drive.

"Oh, thanks. After everything I guess I just forgot about it." _Or at least other me did._ "I should probably just give it back though. My laptop charger is busted."

"You can borrow mine if you want. I have a spare."

"Will that work?"

"Max, you have the _exact_ same laptop as me."

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, Thanks."

"Just stop by my room when you're done. I'd better see you at the game tomorrow!"

Max gives her a tepid "Go Bigfeet!" in response as she digs for quarters. But the smile she pairs it with isn't quite so halfhearted.

_"Don't you forget about me Max."_

_I won't._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually checked the game to verify that Max's and Dana's laptops are identical.


	14. Spirit

_Every high school football game is pretty much the same._ That's the only explanation for Max's sense of Deja-vu. Her parents had dragged her to a game or two in Seattle, and if not for the change in mascots this could have been one of them. The bands played the same songs, the game was just as incomprehensible, and the concession stand had the same greasy food, slathered in cheese sauce. Max took a look at the menu board, faded wood covered in plastic letters from another century. Tempting, but they only took cash, so Max was stuck with the bottled water she had stashed in her bag next to her camera. _Probably not as good as the Two Whales anyways._

She wandered toward the cheerleading section to make herself seen, for Dana's benefit. After a little trouble picking her out among the identical uniforms she joined in a cheer. "Gooooo Bigfoots!" _Why not Big feet? I know it's named after the creature, but that still bugs me._

Her dad had tried to explain how the game worked once, but she'd never really paid attention or cared. She was happier talking to her friends under the bleachers, or taking photos of spectators from odd angles. Somehow, by her 18th birthday, she was still clueless about how Football worked.

At first she wasn't even sure what color uniforms she was supposed to be rooting for. One had white uniforms with red pants, and the other had red uniforms with white pants. Now, from a slightly quieter spot up in the stands, she watched, and with little else to do but pay attention to the game things started to make sense. _Seven points for getting the ball into the end zone. Each team has three or four tries to get the ball past the orange bullseye thing or the other team gets their turn. Kicking the ball in the big fork thing is three points. Or just one?_ The red-uniform-white-pants team scored, and the "Bigfoots" section of the scoreboard went up by... _Wait, 6?_ She sighed. _At least I know who to cheer for now._ But her interest in the game didn't last long and soon she found herself wandering around the field again.

The color guard was hanging out at the end of the field just past the ambulance. _Not sure why they always have one. Kinda morbid right? Do they really think somebody's going to get hurt that bad?_ Some of her Seattle friends were in color guard, and Max wondered if _that_ would be the same too. It wasn't long before a head of dark purple hair, sticking out amongst the handful of flashy red uniforms, confirmed it.

"Hi Alyssa."

"Hi Max."

"I didn't know you were in color guard."

Alyssa shrugged. "I like the exercise, and it's something different I guess. Meet new people and have different experiences."

"I feel like I don't know anybody here. Didn't even think Blackwell had this many students."

"Most of them are from AB High. They've got some kind of partnership thing. I'm the only Blackwell student in Color Guard, but there's lots of us on the football team. Got any good photos yet?"

"Not yet. I just got here a few minutes ago. Had some classwork to finish." _And some anxiety to fend off._

"Take one of me!" Alyssa strikes a dramatic pose, arms toward the heavens, with her flag in one and her dummy rifle in the other.

"I can never get posed shots to feel right. And anyways I should probably get some material for Photography class."

"What are you thinking of for the next assignment?"

 _Assignment?_ "I haven't really had time to think about it." _I should probably start by figuring out what it is._ "What are you planning?"

"I got a few good shots of the snow yesterday for the second part, but not sure what I'll try for the first. Maybe my dad's car. Don't want to say too much or I'll spoil it."

_Not helpful._

A few words from Mrs. Grant and the sequined bodies around them started bustling with purpose, adjusting uniforms, checking flags, and preparing for the routine.

"Looks like we're up soon. I should probably get ready."

"Okay, well good luck on the assignment."

"Thanks, you too. I can't wait to see yours."

Max smiled. _Shit._

Walking back to the bleachers to watch half-time, Max passed two younger kids on the sidelines, passing a football back and forth. A dramatic attempt at a catch failed, and the ball bounced into the seats nearby, eliciting an angry should from whoever was in it's path. Max didn't even turn her head to see who it hit as she ascended the bleachers. 

More seats had filled, and the spot she'd occupied before was no longer so solitary. Best she could do was make sure not to sit next to anybody she recognized. Her camera hid in her bag, still unused. She tried messaging Kate from her perch:

 **Max:** What is the project for Photography?

No response. She stowed her phone in a pocket. For some reason staring at the cracks on the screen gave her a sinking feeling in her stomach, and anyways the halftime show was starting. The band played "Radioactive" and marched in neat little patterns, the color guard twirled their flags, and threw their plastic guns in the air. It was all pretty decent and almost enjoyable until there was a lull in the music, revealing a hushed conversation behind her.

"Yeah, I think it _is_ her." Some kid's voice, quiet and conspiratorial, but not quiet enough now that the music had softened.

"Man that sucks. And she was just hiding in a stall?"

_Me._

"Yeah and she saw everything."

_They're talking about me._

"Is that what the moment of silence was for?"

_Everyone knows. And they've all been looking at me the whole time and I was too stupid to even notice._

Suddenly Max felt trapped by the people around her. Pair after pair of legs blocked the row, and the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself. It took a few seconds before the eyes she was picturing outweighed the awkwardness of an escape. She did her best to squeeze past everyone quietly, and a considerate few moved their legs aside for her. Finally in the aisle, she dashed down the stairs and away from the stands.

* * *

She could still hear the announcer in the distance, but her shadow grew longer as she got farther from the stadium lighting and crowd. The empty baseball bleachers at the end of the field cast a pattern of stripes along the ground below. Max considered actually taking out her camera for a photo--the lighting would be tricky but it could turn out pretty neat if she got the exposure right. Then she heard a voice.

"Max." Victoria was sitting behind the bleachers, her back resting against a metal support.

"Hi Victoria." _I should try and be friendly, right?_ "How are you doing?"

"Shit." She looked mad, but not at Max.

Max paused waiting for elaboration but none came. "Okay. Sorry. What's got you over here away from everything?"

Victoria ignored her question and asked one of her own. "Still have nightmares?"

Max hadn't actually used Victoria's little gift yet, but just knowing that it was there if she needed it had been enough to let her fall asleep most nights.

"It's gotten better."

"Won't get better. Just when you think everything's gonna be fine comes back and all... Fuck." Her words ran together, her tone wandered.

"What comes back?"

"Jefferson." Victoria looked down at her feet, then rolled her head to the left to look at Max. "Fucking creep. Can't get'm outta my _fucking_ head."

"What do you mean?" Even though Max knows the feeling too well.

"You nightmare your punk friend gettin shot, right? I get him. Fucking leering taking photos and I can't..." Her body is unsteady against the leg of the bleacher.

 _Something's wrong._ Victoria could hardly speak coherently, Max could practically smell the alcohol even upwind, but that wasn't what set her on edge.

"It's not even Nathan when I see him. I'm in there and it's just him and me, and you. And taking photos and..."

 _"And you"_. The phrase screams at Max so loudly it takes her a second to process what it means. _She saw me with Jefferson in... No way._

A glass bottle, almost empty, came out of Victoria's purse and to her lips. Max pulled it away, spilling a few drops of clear liquid on the fancy blouse and skirt Vic was wearing.

"The FUCK Max?!" She struggled, but in her state Max had no trouble taking the bottle from her, and her arms flailed against Max's with no heart behind them.

Max grasped her by the wrists and put on her best deathly-serious face, courtesy of her mother. "We need to talk. And you need to NOT be trashed."

"What?" Victoria said, a note of fear creeping into her slurred speech.

 _Good. Maybe she'll believe me._ "Something's been happening. It's... not natural."

She knelt down to face the drunk girl head on, and said with as much weight as she could muster, "Nightmares suck, don't they. When they're so real you swear they actually happened. But they couldn't have."

Victoria nodded. "How...?"

"I've had them too." _So has Kate. It all makes sense now._

"Jeff-son's bunker?"

"And more."

"Kate? Roof?"

Max nodded.

"What's happening?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Now come on, let's get you sober." Victoria clung tightly to Max as they walked toward the campus, leaving Vic's bottle of alcohol in a trash can by the bleachers, and the rest of it in a nasty wet spot on the sidewalk next to the Blackwell statue. The totem pole alone watched them walk up the steps into their dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the reveal!
> 
> It always bugged me that the only dorm on campus doesn't even have enough rooms for an entire boys football team. I finally figured out a plausible explanation for it. Also, I swear I actually know the rules for Football, but writing Max struggling to comprehend them was too fun.


	15. Telephoto

Her room was basked in a pale blue glow from the rope lights, and moonlight spilled onto the windowsills. A cell phone illuminated the far end of her couch, and in the middle of the orb of light was Maxine Caulfield.

She'd had plenty of practice digging through foggy memories and headaches to figure out forgotten times. _Football game. Gin. Moment of silence. More gin. Halftime. Finish the bottle._ None of that explained why the Selfie Ho of Blackwell was sitting on the couch in her room with the lights off.

Not that she'd prefer the lights on. The beginnings of a hangover were already knawing at her head, and she could tell even simply sitting up would be painful. She reached for a pillow to cover her eyes, and hoped that when she woke up Max would be gone.

* * *

It was around midnight when Victoria finally sat up in bed.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Had to carry your drunk ass back from the game." _You're welcome by the way_. "Do you even remember any of it?"

"Just bits and pieces."

"Our talk?"

Victoria shook her head slightly. "Did we win?"

Max nodded. "Thirty-four to sixteen. Texted Dana." She stowed the phone in her pocket.

 _If she doesn't remember..._ Max had a dark thought. _I could make up something. Pretend it never happened. Did that plenty before. Didn't even have to rewind this time._

"Why'd you get so trashed?"

_It'd be easy. Keeping her in the dark and figuring everything out myself._

"I wasn't planning to. Just wanted a little buzz like usual. Got carried away I guess."

"Yeah, _by me_. Lucky nobody saw me hauling you back to the dorms." _I could ask her more about her visions, but not admit that I had them too._

"Why'd you help me anyways? Not like we're friends. Told you not to let that pot get to your head."

_I could tell her she's crazy. I bet she'd even believe me. That'd be evil. But fun._

"Isn't that what pot's supposed to do?" Max said with an impish smile.

"Oh, Ha. Seriously, Max."

"You don't remember anything?"

_Kate said Vic was hurting, and that wasn't half of it. Telling her everything would probably help. Maybe not the part where she dies._

Victoria sighed uncomfortably. "What did I do?"

_I should at least have some fun first though._

"Made out with the whole football team. I'm uploading the video now." Max paused for Victoria to laugh, but based on her look of shock she'd gone too far. "I'm just messing with you. Nothing bad happened. You were out of your gourd by the baseball bleachers going on about Jefferson. I brought you up here while everyone was still watching the game. Stayed to watch you so you didn't end up like a Spinal Tap drummer."

"A what?"

"Never mind."

Long silence. Victoria studied the stoplight on her wall. _Shit, not funny. No rewinds. Just the next-best thing._

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Joking about the video."

"So?"

"You don't deserve it."

"Why not?"

Max took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "You're not a bad person. I shouldn't be harping on something you already regret."

_Here goes nothing..._

"Victoria... at the game you told me you were having nightmares about being in Jefferson's bunker. Well... I'm having the same ones. I don't think they're just dreams, though. I think they're visions."

Victoria's reaction was not what she expected.

"Why the hell should I believe you?" Fuming. Just a little fearful.

_Oh no._

"How do I know this isn't some joke on me again?"

"What? No, I wouldn't..." _But you just did. Genius._

"Just 'cause I drunk-blabbed about having nightmares, you thought you'd have some big laugh at me, make me sound crazy. Well I'm not falling for it. And what the hell is a spinal tap drummer?"

Max blinked at the non sequiter. "Uh... The movie? 'These go to eleven'?"

"The hell are you talking about?"

"The drummer choked on his own vomit? Or, somebody's-"

"Jesus Max, just put me facedown and go back to your own fucking room next time."

"Maybe next time I'll have Mr. Madsen take care of you."

"He doesn't even work here anymore. You might have noticed that if you weren't completely spaced all the time."

_One last try._

"Look, I can prove it. I had a vision and I saw your tattoo. The black one, hidden on your hip."

"Great, so you molested me while I was drunk. Or maybe you just stalked me and saw it on my Instagram. Either way, nice try but I don't go for whiny hipster twats."

"But-"

"Get out of my room. Now!"

Max closed the door behind her and sat down against it. Powers gone, all she could do was lean back and cry silently. Victoria could have been someone to believe her. Someone Max could help. A friend, even. _Really fucked that up. Brilliant._

A figure stepped out of the showers and walked down the hall. Max recognized the tall build and hair in the poor light, and locked eyes with Dana for a split second before she disappeared into her room.

* * *

Victoria slipped a hand beneath her waistline and ran her fingers over the tattoo, feeling the bumps and ridges. There was more gin under the bed. She pondered opening another bottle. Just a small one. Just to help her sleep. It'd still be stupid and self-destructive but she'd deserve that. Just like she deserved Max's joke about the football team.

She tried to tell herself that Max was playing some kind of mind game with her whole 'vision' spiel, and that she deserved that too. But denial didn't work for that any more than it did for her actual visions. Max was trying to help her. She _didn't_ deserve _that_. There.

She could still see a little glass bottle, illuminated by colored spotlights and strobes, being tipped into a glass of water, and every time Kate had forgiven her was just another reason Kate shouldn't. She reached down behind the side of the bed for the bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? A different character's perspective?
> 
> In other news, I'm working on another LIS fic called 'Life is an X-File'. I'm probably crazy to be writing a crossover at the same time as canon, but it's been fun so far, and I still have a decent update buffer for Lights. A few draft chapters are up on ffn (under the same username) and once it's done I'll crosspost it under this account. (I decided to try the other site to see which one I liked better. Answer: AO3 by far).


	16. Subject

"Choose a photographic subject that you're not comfortable with. Shoot it in a way that captures your feelings toward it." Kate had finally texted her back, with _that_. Pretty much the last thing Max needed, but that was the assignment.

There were lots of obvious ideas, ones Max didn't dream of even going near. _Maybe I could ask Mrs. Cameron for a different assignment._ But she tucked her camera into her bag anyways just in case, and pushed her door open wearily to start the week.

World History: Names and years to memorize, which was never Max's forte. Plus the teacher was pretty terrible. _I mean, you'd have to be to make World War II boring._

Algebra: Also terrible. As always.

Lunch wasn't great either. Grilled Cheese was one of Max's favorites, but it never tasted quite right in the cafeteria. Max scrolled through Victoria's photo feed as she ate, looking for the tattoo, but after half an hour of looking, past two summer vacations, hundreds of photos of food, and a birthday party, she was only five months back, and there was no sign of it.

Early again to Photography, Max chose her usual inconspicuous spot in the corner. She didn't lift her eyes from her phone as the rest of the class filed in.

Today's Photography lecture was about capturing human faces and emotion. Mrs. Cameron punctuated the first few slides with cheerful exclamations, as if she was introducing members of a band. "Expressions." Photo of a girl in a red headscarf. Albert Einstein with his tongue out. "Composition." Guy with a thin, three-inch-long moustache. Another Albert Einstein photo. "Lighting." Fat balding man in a suit and bowtie. Black guy holding a stiletto.

_Holy shit, is that...?_ But before she could be certain, the next slide popped up, and it was Einstein again. Several Einsteins.

"I want you to take a look at these three famous portraits. All of the same subject."

_Yeah, we get it, Albert Freaking Einstein_.

"Take a look at how the different photographers captured such different feelings about the subject, just from changes in a few things."

Max's eyes wandered around the darkened classroom. The other students checked phones, looked at each other, and whispered furtively. _Glad I'm not the only one._ Only Kate seemed to be interested in the lecture. She managed to catch sympathetic looks from Stella and a surprise one from Taylor, and of course a nervous glare from Victoria, who was hiding her presumed hangover well, and dressed as chic as ever.

She spent the rest of the class thinking about visions. _Victoria saw something. She must have. No way she'd imagine Kate on the roof, or both of us in the Dark Room. Kate saw herself jump. God, that's gotta be a mind fuck. All from the week I undid._ She couldn't place the vision of Victoria though. That memorial was on the wall only once: The week she didn't remember. But Victoria couldn't have killed herself then, because Max was still in that timeline, and Victoria was still alive.

Before Max knew it the lights flickered back on, snapping Max out of her drowsy distraction, and the classroom emptied, save the teacher. _Time to strike._ She approached the front desk and timidly coughed to draw her attention.

"Mrs. Cameron? I've been thinking a bit about the assignment... You know I've been through some stuff lately and I was wondering if I could have a different topic?"

"I think you could do really amazing things with this assignment if you put your mind to it."

"Maybe later this year? Things are still kind of raw."

"That's when I got some of my best work. You need to channel that feeling, that's the reason I made that assignment."

Max was never especially impressed with Mrs. Cameron's body of work, actually. It reminded her of a wedding photographer without the wedding. "Maybe, but I'm not sure I can handle it right now."

She signed in disappointment and conceded. Sort of. "I'll tell you what, just have Miss Gibson send me an email and I'll figure out a different assignment for you."

"Oh... Okay. Thanks." _Not happening._ That would require admitting to the school's crisis counselor that she wasn't okay, which would be hard enough without having to pretend she actually remembered the last and only time they'd met.

Max gathered her things from the table and made a quiet exit. There was a fire door at the other end of the hall that took her to the dorm without going down the usual path. It said 'alarm will sound' but she'd discovered last week that it was just a bluff, and she'd been using it ever since.

* * *

Passing by Dana's room reminded her of her poor dead laptop, and she stopped to knock. The door was open, just a crack, and Max's knock pushed it just far enough to see Dana, sitting on her bed doing homework.

"Come in!" Dana said as she saw Max's face peer through the doorway. "I got it right here." She gestured to the charger, sitting next to her on the dresser.

Max had forgotten how much pink there was in Dana's room. The bed, the couch, even part of the rug was pink. She searched for a Legally Blonde crack but came up empty; it worked, and suited Dana so well Max couldn't even bring herself to snark about it.

"Thanks! I had fun at the game yesterday. Sorry I didn't make it to the party."

"That's okay, I had Kate to keep me company."

"Kate? Like, _our_ Kate?"

"I just told her the same thing you told me and she was right up for it." Dana held the charger out to max.

"Heh. Right." Max reached for the charger that Dana was offering, but Dana didn't let it go. Instead she held it firm and locked her gaze on Max, her casual expression replaced with as much gravitas as she could manage in a pink tank top.

"I'm sure it's none of my business, whatever you were doing outside Vic's door, but I want you to know you can always talk to me if you want."

Max nodded softly, and Dana released her grip. "Join the club," Max said with a slight smile.

"What club?" Dana asked, not returning the smile.

"Pretty much everybody except for Victoria wants me to talk about my feelings." She waited for Dana's expression to change, but no luck.

"We might all be right," Dana said, still serious. "I'd rather not say how, but... I know you haven't talked to Miss Gibson in forever. I really think you should. I'd hate to have to tell her you need help but... if that's what it takes. I just worry."

It pained Max to realize that Dana's doing everything right, everything she should do for a friend who's hurting, and if Max had normal problems it'd be just what she needed. Goddamn butterfly.

"I just don't like Miss Gibson. I mean, our first meeting went okay..." Max hedged just in case other Max had told Dana about that too. "She listened, but I didn't really feel like she heard me." A complaint meaningless enough that Dana couldn't possibly dispute it.

"There are other counselors. Other people you can talk with. Even if they're... not official."

Max could see where that was going. "If I promise to talk to Kate, will that make you feel better?" That would be a painful conversation, but that was already something she couldn't avoid forever.

Dana nodded.

Max stuffed the charger in her bag, and gave Dana a smile which was actually returned. "Just in time to work on the English paper. And get back to my Netflix binging."

"What've you been watching?"

"Eh. Just finished Buffy the Vampire Slayer and House and I'm about halfway through Breaking Bad."

Dana raised an eyebrow briefly, but held back from commenting on the selection or quantity that Max had been consuming. "I watched Buffy when I was a freshman. That's a really fun one. What was your favorite episode?"

"I really liked the musical one. It was so clever. I couldn't stop laughing at the mustard thing." Or at least she'd gotten a good chuckle out of it, which was close enough nowadays.

"I thought _The Body_ was really amazing."

_Of course she'd say that._ "That _was_ really good." Max hadn't even gotten to the opening credits before she had to stop and read the Wikipedia summary instead. "I liked the one where nobody could talk. I missed Angel in the last few seasons though." _Best not talk about Willow and Tara._

"Yeah, I never got around to watching his spinoff."

"Wait, there's more of him?"

"Yeah, it went on almost as long as the original show."

"What's it called?"

"Uh.. _Angel_ " Dana replied, with just a touch of embarrassment at the obvious title. "Oh, you should check out The Office. Trevor really liked that one. And I just started Dexter, it's really good.

"Dexter? Like Dexter's lab?"

"No, just 'Dexter'. It's about a serial killer in Miami..."

_Nope._

"...finds other serial killers and drugs them with a syringe and..."

Just like that Max was back in the junkyard, surrounded by rust and decay and death and Jefferson and she can't rewind, Chloe's necklace seems suspended in midair as she falls to the ground and-"

"...plastic sheets and cuts their limbs off and..."

Max could hear her own heartbeat, feel her skin crawling, her breaths becoming difficult to draw, but she must be getting better at hiding her panic attacks, because Dana continued, oblivious.

"...probably just watch the first two seasons though. After that..."

Max felt her phone buzz in her pocket and dived for it, giving a silent thanks for the interruption.

**Dad:** Hey Max! It's been a while since I've heard from you. I just wanted to make sure you were ready for Thanksgiving break next week. I'll be picking you up Tuesday afternoon if that works for you. When does your last class end? Can't wait to have you back! -Dad

Max sighed. _Signature and everything._

Max had known in some abstract way that she'd be going home for the break, and that it was coming up soon, but now it felt serious, impending, and Max wasn't sure she was looking forward to it. Here she'd gotten away with becoming a hermit and eating nothing but breakfast cereal for weeks on end, but that wouldn't fly with her parents. And they'd probably want to Talk About Things.

"Who's that text from?"

"Just my dad. He wants to know when to pick me up for Thanksgiving."

"Oh. Okay. You just seemed kinda freaked out about it."

"I just have a bunch of homework due before I leave, and I haven't packed at all."

"Okay, well... take care of yourself Max."

Max knew what that meant, and swallowed the lump in her throat just barely enough to say "Thanks, you too." as she closed the door.


	17. Spill

After the disastrous conversation with Victoria, Max had taken all day to decide exactly what she was going to say to Kate, and how she'd say it. Classes blurred together to form a foggy backdrop to her anxiety.

_Start with the 'what if'. Not too much detail. Never use the word 'rewind'. Best be vague about the dark room for Kate's sake. Smile and nod through the Jesus talk._

She walked into the dorm as if she was coming for a dentist appointment, or perhaps her first trip to the gynocologist. Something uncomfortable was going to happen, even if it was for her own damn good. At this point she would have preferred either of those alternatives, but the issue had been forced. The phrase "you're not my mother" occurred to her briefly as she passed Dana's room.

After stopping by her own closet for a quick change, Max found herself standing outside Kate's door. _Hope she has a box of tissues ready,_ Max thought as she knocked.

Kate's voice invited her into the warmly-lit room. The windows faced east, and afternoon sun poured into them. Max was tempted to lose her hoodie to stay comfortable, but remembered at the last second why she was wearing it and left it on, for now.

She caught Kate in the middle of filling her electric kettle. It reminded her of her grandmother's dish set; white, shaped like a real teapot, and with a pastel flower design on the side. Max had only ever seen electric ones in stainless steel. _Wonder where she got that._

"Hello Max. Your text said you wanted to talk?" she said hopefully.

Max nodded in response. "We should probably sit down."

Kate nodded, then flipped the switch on the kettle and joined Max on the couch.

 

"What do you think would have happened if I'd saved Chloe?"

Kate winced and drew back slightly, as if she'd just watched Max get stabbed. "I can't imagine... Max I'm not sure it's a good idea to think about it too much."

"I need you to. Instead of shooting her, Nathan gets scared off and runs away instead of getting arrested. What happens next?"

Kate looked lost in thought, or unease, for a moment, but eventually connected the dots. "He wouldn't have confessed. Then Mr. Jefferson wouldn't be caught."

"Bingo. It means you still wouldn't know what happened to you, and he'd be free to hurt more people."

"I don't even want to imagine that."

"I don't have to. I lived through it all. You've been having dreams, right? Visions? Us on the rooftop, and you jumping, and me wearing this t-shirt." Max shifted her hoodie to give Kate a clear view of it. "Everything I said was dreams, all the time I spent with Chloe really happened to me in another timeline, after the bathroom. I had a... second chance, and I saved her. And it was wonderful being with her, just like I said, but awful things happened too. Jefferson drugged me. I saw you jump off the roof. And then Nathan, and Joyce, and Warren and so many other innocent people died because of what I did. Then I had a chance to go back and undo it. She begged me to take it.

"So I did. I go back, and I just sit in the back of the bathroom and l-let her die, and it worked. Nobody died. Except her. Next thing I know I'm walking to her funeral." Max sniffed slightly and ran her fingers over the metal studs of Chloe's bracelet.

"I don't understand it, why I had that chance, but I did it and I wish I hadn't." Max hadn't planned to say this part. "I know that means you'd be dead and I'm really really sorry but I'm just so fucked up, I really loved her and I want her back."

Max could indeed use some tissues, but she was already trapped by Kate's arms, wrapped tightly around her. Kate's shoulder would have to do. The kettle boiled but Kate ignored it. Her blouse was soaked in snot and tears but Kate didn't even seem to notice. 

"I'm sorry. I can't even imagine how awful that must be. Then having to keep it all bottled up... Thank you for trusting me with it."

"You really believe me?" Max finally managed to ask in between sniffles. She didn't really need to, it was all over Kate's face, but she wanted to hear it.

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because you asked me to. You were right about the vision; I guess that helps too. It happened the day after Chloe died. In the middle of the day, when I was watching them arrest Mr. Jefferson, I just blacked out, then everything was different. I was up there. I... jumped off."

"I think you're not the only one getting visions. I don't know if I should say who cause it's personal, but someone else-"

"Is it Victoria?"

_So much for privacy._

"Yeah. At least I think so. Kinda hard to get the truth out of her when she's sober. And please don't talk to her about this. Things between me and her are kinda... complicated right now."

"Complicated? Do you mean she's your... girlfriend?"

"What? No! Nothing like that."

"It's okay if she is. I promise it doesn't bother me. She does seem kind of tsundere for you."

Max was shocked she even knew that word, let alone pronounced it so it didn't rhyme with 'deer'. "No. I'm not into her like that. Or at all, I don't think. Just trying to help her, like you help me. She's a bit pricklier than I am. And I don't have your... angelic nature."

"I-I... I'm not..." Kate blushed and looked away with stammered protest, but it only made her look more angelic.

"Come on, you're amazing. You always know the right thing to say. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Kate's face darkened for a moment. "I'm glad I could be there for you. I've been really worried for you the last two weeks."

"I know. And I'm sorry it took me so long to explain but..."

"I understand, Max. It's okay."

 

"So... what do we do now?" Max finally asked.

"We need to help eachother. And Victoria too. Try and make some kind of sense of everything."

"I've tried that. I've been trying ever since it started."

"I'm sure we'll figure it out, Max. Everything ha-"

"If you're going to say everything happens for a reason..." Max considered a threat but thought better of it. "Just don't."

"I won't. I know it doesn't help you." But Kate looked pained at the admonition.

"Sorry. I know all that stuff means a lot to you. It just doesn't work for me. Unless there's something in the bible about a blue butterfly."

"Like the one in the photo that was on your wall?"

Max nodded. "I took that photo in the bathroom, just before Nathan came in. Saw it at her funeral too."

"I remember that. I've seen it on campus a few times. I tried to draw it but it flew away."

"I think it's not just... There's something about it. I looked it up. It took forever to find it because it shouldn't be here. It's native to Peru. Not Oregon. And just looking at it felt weird. I know it means something. I know there's something bigger going on. I just don't know what."

"I've always believed that."

The parallel snuck up on Max and hit her right in the forehead. She chuckled a little. "Maybe... everything does happen for a reason?"

Kate's smile melted Max, just a little bit.

After a silence that stretched just a bit too long for comfort, Kate leaned forward to get up from the couch. "I hope you don't mind, but I... um... I kinda need some time to process this all."

"Me too. And you probably need to change." Max nodded her head towards Kate's still-disgusting shoulder. "Sorry!"

"Don't. I'm happy to be a shoulder for you. I hope you are too?"

"Absolutely. I still kinda need to tell you all the details. It's a long story. I'll bring tissues."


	18. Portfolio

With the photography assignment looming, Max was getting desparate for ideas. So much makes her so uncomfortable lately, it was hard to choose.

She'd walked past the Tobanga totem a few days ago, and realized she could just use that. It was kind of creepy the first few times she'd seen it. Weak idea, but one that wouldn't end with her crying on her bedroom floor, and as the week went on it was getting more and more tempting.

It would be an easy subject. Angry eyes and grimacing faces and all of the sharp angles and contrasts she could wish for. She stuffed her camera into her bag as she left her room the morning of the due date.

_Twenty minutes to first class. Decent light. Just point, and shoot._

The camera didn't feel quite right in her hands. She couldn't quite put her finger on why. _Whatever_.

The first shot was a close up of a face, head on. The shutter clicked, the motor whirred, and the plastic cover zipped back to reveal the photo. Max shoved it away in her bag immediately. On to the next one.

Next shot. Camera on the ground, looking up toward the top of the pole. Click, whir, zip, shove. Repeat.

_I should try something from the back too._

Click, whir, zip, shove, repeat.

She tried a few random angles to capture the shape of the wings, ornately carved, sticking out of the sides of the column. _If I could climb up it I could get a pretty neat shot of the top face._ But that sounded like too much of a bother.

Twenty minutes turned out to be more than enough time, and she was slightly early to History class. 

Algebra began with Monday's assignment being passed back. Max hadn't been too worried about this one, but apparently she should have been. A whole pen's worth of red ink was scribbled all over her work, and the note 'See me after class' was scrawled at the top. 'Seeing' Mrs. Newton took most of her lunch break, and by the time they'd gone through all her factoring mistakes it was time for her next class. She was as still as confused as ever, and now she was also hungry. But no time to stop. Off to photography.

She moved the keyboard aside and laid her photos out on the classroom desk to see what she'd captured. _Decent shots. Mildly disconcerting maybe. Enough to turn in. Get a decent grade. Another checkbox in the portfolio._ She picked out the best few and arranged them on the desk.

Mrs. Cameron entered the classroom, a short, round woman with jet black hair and a smile that was trying to be contagious, but not succeeding. Lights went down and class began, today covering composition. Max's fascination with the subject was tempered by the less-than-impressive presentation, and she caught herself almost wishing that another teacher was giving it, before gagging on the thought.

Victoria earned an irritated cough from Mrs. Cameron as she tried to shuffle into the darkened classroom a few minutes into the lecture. She kept her eyes down and took no notes; she didn't even have a purse on her.

_Tsundere._

She tried to imagine Kate as an anime fan and had to stifle a laugh. _What would she watch, Super Action Bible Victory Force?_

The word kinda fit though. Max had seen enough of Victoria's moments of weakness to know that no matter what she pretended, she was not exactly heartless.

_It doesn't just mean 'nice on the inside' though. Does Kate know that? She did pronounce it right..._

The idea of Victoria having some kind of feelings for her felt completely alien. Even after the vision she'd never assumed the graffiti was actually right, though the possibility had been in the back of her mind. Even then, she can't imagine she's Victoria's type.

_She said 'not into hipster twats'. But she didn't say 'not into girls'? Unless that's what she meant by 'twats'._ The anatomical reference left Max distinctly uncomfortable and she tried to focus on the lecture, interrupted only occasionally by images from her vision.

Lights came back on, and it was finally time to pass up the projects. Max stuffed hers into a folder and passed it to Kate, who passed it to Alyssa, who passed it on to Mrs. Cameron. Other than that Max might as well have not been there, until the students filed out of the classroom, leaving Kate and Max alone with a few minutes between classes.

"I talked to Miss Gibson yesterday," Kate said, turning her seat partway around so she could face Max while putting away her notes.

"Oh?" _Uh oh_.

"Some of the other girls who were drugged have been seeing her as well. She's trying to organize a support group for all of us."

There had been at least two dozen other binders in the shelf in the dark room. Each must have meant another girl victimized. Max couldn't name a single one.

"I think that would be good for you, talking to people who went through the same thing."

"I think you should come too, Max."

"Oh. No, I can't. I'm sorry. I wouldn't belong there."

"But you do. Even if you can't talk about the real reason, I'd just say you were there because of what you went through in the bathroom. I'm sure they'd be fine with it."

"That's just it though. I won't be able to talk about it. I can't trust anybody but you to believe me, or not think I'm completely crazy. I'd just have to keep hiding the truth and pretending I'm doing okay and that hurts.

"It's scary too. I slipped up a few times talking to you, and I was terrified that you'd notice and everything would fall apart and I just can't do that. I can't go through therapy lying and watching every word I say, it just doesn't work like that."

"I'm sorry. I just thought it would help."

"I know, and I really do appreciate it, but I'm-"

* * *

The first thing Max noticed when she jolted awake was that her phone was on the wrong side of her bed. The familiar buzz came from a desk to the right, not the left. The air was too cold, her covers were too thick, and when she finally managed to pry her eyes open she wasn't in her dorm room at all.

It was Max's old bedroom, in her parents' Seattle rowhouse. Another vision.

The room was almost exactly as she remembered it. Same bed, same old dresser, and the same pile of dirty laundry in the corner. Even some of the posters hadn't changed. The photo wall was still there too, different selection but same place. The light streamed onto the foot of her bed like it always did on lazy weekend mornings. Nothing seemed out of place except Max herself.

"Max!" Her father's voice came from downstairs, and it sounded overjoyed. "Good news! They accepted it!"

"What?" She reached for the clothes pile to find some pants. Her usual pair of jeans was right on top, but she froze halfway through putting them on. A small, black, plastic box was strapped to her left ankle. She pulled on it but it was secured firmly, and there was no snap or buckle to remove it. She knew what it must be, but couldn't believe it, couldn't understand why. Her panicked guessing was interrupted by a knock.

Her fathers voice came from outside the door. "They accepted the plea!"

She pulled the jeans over the ankle monitor and shouted, "Come in!"

He threw the door open and grabbed Max from the side of the bed to wrap her in a tight bear hug, which she returned, tentatively, confused.

"What-"

"Misdemeanor, two years probation, community service, and public apology with admission of guilt." He smiled. "You should write a fancy thank you letter to Bill. His press statement really screwed the prosecution."

_William_. Only her dad called him 'Bill'. _If he's alive that means..._ Her mind was instantly occupied by a hospital bed in what used to be the Price's workshop.

"That and the nurse admitting she ignored her 840 request and lied to her about her prognosis, breaking 815."

Max didn't know what those numbers meant, but she could guess. She'd looked up the oregon right to die law after the funeral, and what she'd done with the morphine drip wasn't exactly covered by it. It hadn't even occurred to her until well later that it would land her in any sort of trouble.

She remembered watching Chloe slowly stop breathing, quietly, as if going to sleep. It hadn't felt like much at the time, the photo to undo it all was sitting right there, and she'd left her dead in this reality without looking back. Now she faced what she'd left behind and failed to hold back tears.

"Maxi, what's wrong? You should be happy. Everything's going to be okay."

"I... miss her."

He sighed. "I'm sure Mom'll come around."

_Oh god... what did I do?_ But without even thinking about it she swallowed her confusion and stepped into her alternate self. "I mean Chloe."

"Oh, sweety." She felt his hand cup the back of her head tightly. "I know how rough it's been. I forget sometimes, how close you two were back when. And then you've had all this legal stuff to deal with on top of that, plus your friend, what was it, Virginia? But it'll get better."

"It doesn't feel like it." Max didn't know anyone named Virginia, or Ginny or anything else like that. Another mystery to ignore for now.

"Maybe not now. But after a bit you find yourself thinking about them and you have all these wonderful memories. Like this one."

He reached up to the wall behind Max and plucked a photo from the center of it. "Just a nice quiet morning at your best friend's house. I can see why you put this one right in the middle."

She hadn't even noticed that photo, and didn't dig her head out from her father's arms to look at it, but she knew which one he was talking about instantly.

He must have felt her tense up at mention of the photo. "I know, we had to move away pretty soon after this one was taken, and then the accident... but it's such a happy moment. And even though she's gone, you'll be glad that we had her with us."

"But she's gone because of me."

"She's gone because some shit in an SUV cut her off in traffic. She wasn't going to survive, all the doctors knew it. Bill and Joyce knew it, even if they were in denial. She knew it. That's why she did it. But I like to think you made her last day just as special as this breakfast."

He extracted himself from the hug to show Max the photo. It was just as she remembered it, with her and Chloe smiling broadly at the camera, Chloe with her blond hair again and Max with her slightly regrettable ponytail. And braces. _Oh god the braces._ But then it blurred, and now-familiar echoes of the past rang in her ears. Before she could even decide whether to try and focus, a jolt ran through her body as if from a cattle prod, and the vision was over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put enough thought into the background for the Save William timeline that I'm considering writing a one-off for it if there's interest.
> 
> The next chapter still needs some polishing, so there's a slight chance it might be a little late. But in other news, Life is an X-File is done, and cross-posted to AO3 with author commentary for your enjoyment.


	19. Labels

Voices overlapped, each some mixture of urgent or afraid.

"I think she's coming to."

"Max!"

"Oh, thank goodness."

Mrs. Grant's face hovered over her as she opened her eyes. She exhorted the others to give her some space.

"Max? Sweetie?"

"What?"

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Is this a trick question?" She only let her worry for a second before smiling a little and giving the correct answer. "Two."

"You really had us scared for a bit. What happened?"

"I just fainted. It happens. Just every once in a while. I'm fine." She caught Kate's eye for a second and hoped she got the message.

Mrs. Grant was hardly mollified by the reassurance. "I'm taking you to Mrs. Barenchi. Can you walk?"

Max stood, doing her best to show how fine she was. "No, don't worry. I'm okay. It's no big deal."

She tried not to show her annoyance that Kate had summoned a teacher. If that wasn't bad enough, a half-dozen students had been drawn in by the commotion. Brooke and Warren must have come from Mrs. Grant's class, and there was Hayden, but some of the faces she couldn't even attach names to, and they were all staring at her.

"I'd feel a lot better if you stopped by the nurse's office."

"No, it's okay. Really. I just didn't have any lunch." _Or breakfast._ "Kate can walk me to drawing class if you're worried. Right?" Another significant glance thrown in that direction and Kate was right on board.

"I'd be happy to, Mrs. Grant."

"Well okay. If you're sure."

Max gathered her things and made her way out of the awkward circle of curious students that had formed while she was blacked out, pretending not to notice them as she exited the classroom with Kate in tow.

Her turn towards the south stairwell confused Kate.

"Uhh... Max? Isn't figure drawing the other way?"

"Yeah, and I didn't faint." Kate squeaked slighly in protest as Max burst out the emergency door, but then hurried to catch up as Max marched toward the treeline.

"What...? What's gotten into you? Wait, did you-?"

"Yeah. Another vision."

"Of what?"

"It was after I... shit, it's not gonna make sense unless I tell you the whole thing."

"The whole thing? I though you already did."

Max stopped and looked back to make sure there was nobody within earshot. "I said I 'had a second chance'. Stuff like that. I was still dancing around it. Cause it sounds crazy when I say 'I could rewind time'."

Kate's response came quicker, and less shocked, than Max expected. "Not as crazy as you think."

"What?"

Kate stammered out a response. "I... I just mean I believe miracles are real, and that Christ died for my sins and was ressurected and..."

"All that was two thousand years ago. Do you guys really believe that sort of thing still happens?"

"Yes. Well, it depends on whether you're in a continualist demonimation, but I do."

"I never did. Never believed any of that stuff. I guess you'd call me 'atheist'. Now I don't know what to think." Max turned away and continued into the forest.

There would be no finding the clearing again but a suitable spot presented itself soon enough. A tree, perhaps felled in some recent storm, lay across their path. It's roots splayed out from the trunk like a fan, providing a backrest for Max as she sat down and closed her eyes.

Kate joined her on the log, resting her hands on a raised knee. "Will you tell me what you saw?"

"Yeah. As long as you don't mind missing Figure Drawing."

That would be no small deal for Kate, but she nodded, and Max continued.

"I guess I gotta start at the beginning, in the bathroom. I saw... wait, shit. Right before that in class I had a vision..."

Kate tried not to interrupt as Max told her tale, but she couldn't help but cut in with a question once in a while:

 

"Wait, why didn't your camera just break again after you rewound?"

"Cause I knew not to knock it off the table the next time around. That's all I had to do, keep trying something different and rewind if something bad happened. So..."

It was actually going pretty well. If Kate had any doubts she wasn't saying it. Of course, she'd already heard most of this part.

 

"Why didn't you tell the principal Chloe was in there too?"

"I didn't even know it was Chloe at the time. Guess I didn't feel like she deserved to get in trouble, since she almost got killed. She _did_ get killed, but it's not like I could say that either..."

Kate was following the story well. Not to the real tough stuff yet, but she did gasp appropriately when Chloe got slapped, and winced at mention of her video. 

 

"Why didn't you think I should go to the police?"

Max didn't really want to answer that one. "It was stupid, I was afraid they wouldn't take us seriously, especially after I saw what Wells thought of me reporting Nathan's gun. We didn't have enough evidence..."

 

"Who's Frank?"

"Oh. He was this drug dealer. He sold to Chloe and Nathan and..."

Kate seemed surprised at the idea that Max could pull the trigger on someone, even if they were about to gut her. She was much less surprised at the idea that Jefferson was a victim-blaming sociopath who drove her to suicide.

 

"Couldn't you just rewind again and save me?"

"I tried, but I'd been using it so much that morning that it didn't work anymore. I tried to just talk you down but I didn't know any bible verses and..."

Kate seemed remarkably at peace with the idea that if not for Chloe's passing she'd be lying broken on the dormitory steps.

 

"What about me? Did I kill myself in that timeline too?"

"I... I'm not sure. I don't think we knew eachother that well. I looked through my text messages and apparently I smoked pot and blew a bunch of my parents' money, but..."

 

"Why didn't you just go to the police after you found the dark room? Or at least after finding Rachel?"

"Yeah, that was pretty stupid. Almost got me killed a bunch of times. But we knew the Prescotts were really cozy with the police, and Chloe didn't trust them at the time, so we go confront Nathan at the vortex party instead..."

 

Now for the hard part. Max did her best to avoid any of the specifics of the dark room, mostly to spare Kate but it wasn't as if she wanted to talk about it anyways.

"Why was Victoria down there?"

"Remember, we still thought it was just Nathan. So when I tried to warn her about him and she went straight to Mr. Jefferson. I'm pretty sure that's what she had a vision of..."

 

"Wait, so you don't remember what happened in the other timeline?"

"No, just like how I didn't remember the five years after I saved William, or the week after Chloe died. But basically we just told the police everything and..."

 

"How?"

"I still don't know. Maybe rewinding time causes some kind of unnatural damage to reality, and that's it's way of compensating. But Chloe still had that photo, and she realized..."

And then the sacrifice. She'd told Kate about it before, but she still teared up a little recounting it, and Kate seemed to be affected almost as much. It took a few moments of silence before Kate was able to ask another question.

"What about the vision you had just now?"

"All the visions we've had were from other timelines. You saw what happened to you if I saved Chloe. I just saw what would have happened to me if I saved William: I woke up back in Seattle with an ankle monitor and my dad shouting up the stairs that the prosecutor accepted our plea deal."

"You mean you got arrested for... for killing her? Doesn't Oregon have a law about that?"

"Yeah, but there's official procedures for it. Waiting periods and stuff. Not like what I did. I guess it's not the worst time I saw her die though."

"How many?..."

"Nine or ten times. Five in the bathroom trying to save her. She got hit by a ricochet while we were shooting at the beer bottles. Then twice from the train I think. Not even sure. Then Mr. Jefferson. Then the last time. That was the worst, cause I could've... I mean I had to just sit there, knowing I could stop it but letting it happen anyways.

"That's why I've been using the emergency exit. So I wouldn't have to walk past that bathroom. I've been avoiding lots of places lately. And people."

Max felt the uneven roots against her back as she sought a more comfortable position. "So that's it. The whole crazy story. I guess it does feel a little better now that I told you."

"I think it's great that you can talk to me, but I think you really need help Max. More than I know how to give you. I think you should to talk to Miss-"

"You think I don't know how fucked up I am?" Max shouted back at her. "I have nightmares constantly. I missed half my classes this month and ate nothing but cereal for weeks 'cause I don't want to talk to people. You have no idea how much I wish I could just spill everything and get into therapy like a normal fucking human being. But no, you know what happens if I talk to somebody who's actually qualified to help me? They have stuff just waiting for me. Labels like 'Delusional' or 'Schizophrenic'. Medications like Thorazine or Haldol. Padded rooms and straightjackets. Do you think I need that kind of help? That I'm really that crazy?"

Max's voice softened as she leaned back against the roots again. "I wouldn't blame you if you do. Sometimes I wonder about it myself. I mean, having visions and thinking I rewound time; that's not a thing sane people do right? Maybe I should just give myself up to the guys in white lab coats right now."

"No, I really do believe you."

"I know you do, but why should you? What if I'm just taking advantage of your faith and your PTSD to rope you into my own delusions? How am I supposed to know what's even true anymore?"

"I think Miss Gibson would have noticed it by now if I was crazy. You remember I asked you what shirt you were wearing. You got the answer right. You know you did, you wore it again yesterday when you talked to me."

"Why did you even ask that?"

"Because of the rain. It was such an odd little detail, and it hadn't rained in so long and it just struck me. And I just had this crazy thought, what if we had the same dream. I couldn't believe it at first, when you answered. The bible has a lot to say about visions but that one didn't make any sense. I even asked a priest, but he just looked at me funny."

"Maybe I should start my own religion. Cult of the Blue Butterfly."

"'Cult' makes it sound scary. Maybe 'order'?"

"Sure. Order of the Blue Butterfly. I'll draw up the stationery. I bet you could draw us an amazing logo."

"I'm not sure if I'm allowed to."

"Oh. Something in the commandments?"

Kate nodded.

Max checked the time on her phone. Kate was not just missing figure drawing, she'd probably be late starting her usual violin practice too. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and the clouds were gradually fading from white to a range of purples and pinks that promised a gorgeous sunset.

"What if I can't help you?" Kate asked.

"I don't know. Send me off to the funny farm then. You know enough to get me hauled there real quick."

"I wouldn't."

"You need to. I feel pretty good now. Just got a lot off my chest. But you should know I've thought about hurting myself."

"I do."

"Right now I'm clear-headed enough that the thought scares me. Right now I'd still rather be institutionalized than dead. If that ever changes... it's not fair of me to lay that on you. I know how that feels."

"I can handle it."

"No. Promise me you'll tell someone if it gets really bad. You don't even have to mention the time stuff. Just get me help if I need it."

Kate nodded in reluctant acknowledgement.

After a quiet pause the corner of Max's mouth turned upwards into a half-smile. "Shit. Remember when we used to talk about _fun_ stuff?"

Just like that, Max and Kate were sharing a quiet laugh again. _Shame it'd be weird to take a photo right now_ , Max thought as she admired the way the speckled sunlight falls on Kate's hair and shoulders.

Then Max stared too long, and Kate looked away.

"How about photography?" A topic they'd talked about for hours on end before; it fit like an old pair of jeans after finally getting back in shape--novel but distantly familiar, and broken in just right; angles and light and composition and moments, not unlike this one, that Max wanted to hold onto forever.

"What did you do for your assignment?" Kate asked.

"I did the Tobanga. Not my greatest work but it'll do."

"What about the second part?"

"What?"

"There were two parts. The second one was about something that _is_ comfortable. Didn't you see the other text?"

Max checked her phone and sure enough...

"...Shit."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another kinda dark chapter. And my longest yet. Max seems to be developing a bit more self-awareness at least.
> 
> I'm not into religion myself, and I definitely wasn't planning it, but I guess some kind of spiritual crisis actually makes sense in a universe with mysterious time travel powers. I intend to keep it to a minimum though.
> 
> I don't know if I'm quite in love with the exact technique I used to elide over Max's whole story, but it's still better than actually writing three chapters of dialogue to explain events that the whole audience already knows.


	20. Maxs

 

Max awoke with no will to do anything whatsoever. Her sleep had been interrupted by Jefferson more than usual, and while she managed to avoid a total meltdown like last week, she hadn't managed to actually get much rest. After snoozing her alarm the usual three times to skip breakfast, she hit it a few more times to avoid English, then just turned it off entirely.

_I've gone to most of my classes lately. I can miss a little._

She assuaged her guilty conscience by working a little on the English paper, but was soon diverted by hordes of cute cat pictures that demanded to be looked at, and she eventually just gave up and started the last season of Breaking Bad. Even that failed to hold her attention for long, and as Walt began the final steps of his descent into darkness, thoughts of yesterday's vision intruded.

_That timeline kept going after I left it._ The thought had been creeping up on her since the previous afternoon, and finally hit hard. _It didn't go away._

All those other Maxs left behind, most probably miserable or dead. Or arrested, apparently. This was the first she'd even thought of any of them, and her gut twisted into knots at the idea. _What if I'm not changing reality... just... choosing one._

Her laptop continued playing in the background as she stared out the half-open blinds. Leaves were fading from yellow to brown, and branches were starting to show on the tree outside.

There was the reality with William alive. Several with her still in the dark room, doomed to be overdosed or maybe saved. One with her a rising star in the world of photography. Another she left behind using Warren's photo in the Two Whales. And then the last one, with the storm bearing down on the streets and people she'd grown up with, while she and Chloe watched from the cliff.

_Did I create them?_ A whole new Arcadia Bay for every time Max changed the past. Maybe one for every time she changed her mind; one where she had a photo of Victoria covered in fresh paint, and at least two dozen where David had died in various ways at the hands of Mark Jefferson, and Max had followed.

_Or worse. Maybe they already existed._ Maybe one Max had blacked out while chatting with her Vortex Club buddies and woke up to find she'd just killed her best friend.

That last thought sent bile up her throat. More was coming and the bathroom beckoned, but no way she'd let her dorm mates see her in this shape. _Trash can._

She made it just as her stomach gave up it's contents; they fell onto the pile of food wrappers that still overflowed the wastebasket, and the only thing that saved the floor was that there was so little to bring up.

The heaving ended quickly enough at least. Max sat next to the wastebasket, listening to the soft drone of the TV show wafting from her laptop, until her legs started to hurt, and then a little longer. When she got up she'd have to take out the trash, and there was still that half of the photo at the bottom of it.

_Virginia._ She still knew nobody by that name, not even a search of the school directory had provided any clues. But he'd seemed uncertain about the name, maybe... _Duh. Victoria._ That Max was friends with her. It fit perfectly, but still told her little about what happened. Did they have some kind of fight? Did she...

_Did the storm come? The whales did._ That could explain why she was in Seattle. Or maybe getting arrested had gotten her kicked out of Blackwell too.

Max took a deep but shaky breath as she stood up, legs tingling painfully, steadying herself on the radiator. 

Or... _Fuck. What if... Jefferson._ She nearly fell back to the floor. He was still alive and free when Max entered that timeline, and _that_ Max probably had more pressing matters to attend to than investigating a missing girl she didn't even know. What if she could have used that few minutes as a warning, rather than an attempt to make herself feel better?

Hopefully cleaning up the mess would be enough to distract from her thoughts for a little while. She picked up the trashcan and plodded toward the door. The overflow would have to wait for a second trip.

All the other residents were busy in class, so she made it to the trash room the end of the hall unnoticed. A half-open window made the room freezing, and only partly improved the smell; Max's deposit sure wasn't going to help. She tipped the it into the can, and was about to head back to her room when she saw it. Right on fucking top of the pile she'd left. That butterfly photo. She paused mid-turn, and as much as she hated it for what it had done, leaving that connection behind didn't feel right either.

Her hand reached in gingerly, avoiding the filthy sides of the can and plucked the photo out. She ran a finger across the torn edge and wondered if--had she not lost her powers anyways--it would still work. Then before it could suck her train of thought back into the bathroom she shoved it in a pocket and rushed down the hall.

"Well you're a fucking mess."

Victoria's voice came from the stairwell door behind her, and she froze.

"Seriously, it's noon and you're still in PJs."

"Shouldn't you be in class?"

"You're one to talk, little miss never-goes-to-English. I just came back to grab a book during lunch." Victoria walked around Max slowly, scrutinizing her mussed hair and unwashed face. "What the hell is that?" She pointed at a wet stain on Max's sleep shirt. Apparently not all of it had gone in the trashcan. "Jesus, it's like shooting angsty fish in a barrel." She made a big show of sniffing, and turning her nose up in exaggerated disgust. "Take a fucking shower at least."

She wasn't wrong. Max mounted a halfhearted defense anyways. "That's just from taking out the trash."

Victoria surveyed Max head to toe, pointedly. "You missed some."

Max watched Victoria walk the last few steps down the hall, high heels tapping quietly on the carpet. A crazy-expensive pair no doubt, but her legs looked really good in them, and the way-- _goddamnit why are you looking at her like that after everything she said?_ A weak retort finally occurred to her as Victoria disappeared into her dorm room. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." After a second's pause the door slammed, leaving her in the middle of the hallway feeling particularly stupid. _That didn't even make sense._

 

Finally back in her room, she dug for the other half of the photo behind the wastebasket. Rather than the place of honor on her wall, she opted to secret both parts in her stereo. A paper towel took care of the spot on her shirt, and the distraction ended. She almost wished for more conversation with Victoria.

There would be more visions. All the realities she traveled through... there were enough of them to fill out a spreadsheet. Enough to _need_ one. Rows for each photo. Columns for what happened to who. She typed it all out as best she could, but there were lots of question marks; a mixture of the unknowable and Max's fuzzy memory. Still no place for Victoria's death. _Not even in the current timeline_ , Max hoped, and wondered if keeping the photo was tempting fate.

And then there was that last timeline. She got to the column for Chloe and for the first time filled it with the word 'alive', fingers shaking. _What if I see that one._ The idea was at turns seductive and terrifying. She wiped tears onto her sleeve, and carried her laptop to her bed.

Television managed to occupy her for the rest of the afternoon. Around five o'clock the sun began it's slow descent below the waves and gave the clouds coloring that was more Impressionist than her reality had any business being. For some reason the sunset wasn't right, shouldn't be happening. She couldn't pinpoint why; it was an odd, indefinable wrongness, made concrete only after the sounds of a violin drifted into Max's dorm room at seven o'clock, rather than the usual four.

You could set your watch to Kate's violin practice session--not that Max or any of the other dorm residents owned a watch. And now she was three hours late. Curiosity finally got the better of Max and she picked up her phone.

**Max:** I missed hearing you practice at 4, what happened?

The playing stopped abruptly, and Max could picture Kate interrupting her practice to read the text.

**Kate:** I missed seeing you in classes, what happened?

_Fine._

The phone thunked back onto the dresser, and Max pulled her covers over the same clothing she'd gotten out of bed in.

Thoughts became jumbled, then confused, then sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to the inside of Max's head. I tucked this chapter in sort of last minute (meaning 'only two weeks ago') because I felt like I should have a bit of a narrative breather between the last chapter and the next one. I'm noticing that I feel a lot more comfortable writing dialog than I do this sort of 'Max alone with her thoughts' thing. But variety is good, and after a lot of revising I'm happy with how it finally came out. Plus I managed to fit in some great burns from Victoria. Poor Max.
> 
> I've noticed that my 'small chapter every week like clockwork' MO seems to be unusual in the fanfic world, so I thought I'd ask: what do you all think of it, as compared to larger but less regular/frequent updates?


	21. Exposure

 

"They won't let me see any of it. I mean, she's probably right. Right? That I shouldn't?" Kate had caught Max in the hall and suggested they sit together in the cafeteria. Max wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but it had forced her to get an actual lunch and sit down at a table like a functional human being. At least she hadn't brought up Max's absence yesterday. Kate picked a spot by the windows, and the midday sun warmed the back of Max's neck and shoulders as she stabbed at her salad distractedly. There were few students nearby to overhear but she was still speaking softly, uncomfortably.

"I don't know," Max said. "I mean, some parts are still hazy, but I can picture it all. Sometimes I wish I couldn't, but... I dunno. It might be worse, not knowing."

"I just remember a lot of white. I couldn't move, I couldn't see anything. I didn't remember his face, I had no idea who it was until he was caught, but now I see him when I try to recall that night. I don't know if I'm really remembering it at all."

Max swallowed a bite of fish sandwich and put it back on her plate. "Memory is weird like that. My psych teacher in Seattle said it's not like a movie. You're always building and rebuilding your image of the past based on new stuff."

"So I can't even trust what I think I remember. I feel like I shouldn't be relieved about that, but I am."

Max's hand froze halfway to her mouth, the kale she'd managed to skewer dangled from her fork. "What do you mean?"

"He... just took photos, right? He didn't... do anything else?"

"No! No, it was just photos. That was bad enough, with him staring at me like he was stealing my soul with his camera and enjoying it. There are parts I don't remember. Like, I know he must've carried me to his car and down the stairs while I was unconscious, and that's just awful and gross. But he didn't do anything... physical."

"Every time I ask somebody about it they say he just took photographs of me. I want to believe them but I don't. It doesn't seem real. I feel like they're just repeating it from the official statements; trying to spare me from what really happened."

"Why would you think that?"

"Courtney. I overheard her talking to Victoria about the Vortex Club after class a while ago. She said something like, 'I don't want us to get blamed cause Nathan was date-raping students' and then I could picture it. Even though everyone else says it didn't happen I can still picture it.

"And then I feel stupid for not believing everyone. It's not like I trust her more than the police. And they said there was even security video, so they know what he did. But they won't let me see it."

"I'm sure Courtney didn't even know what she was talking about. She probably just assumed it or heard some crazy rumor."

"I know. And now I feel stupid that I'm so freaked out about it even though nothing happened."

"What happened to you... to us wasn't 'nothing'. It was... a violation. Just because it wasn't like that doesn't mean wasn't awful. It doesn't mean you're stupid or wrong to feel hurt by it."

"You're right, Max. Of course you are, but I don't know how much it helps. I mean, every single person here has told me it's not my fault that it happened but I still think that sometimes. That I invited it somehow by dancing, or showing too much leg, or just going to the party at all."

"Is that what your church told you?"

"Why would you think that? My pastor's been very supportive."

"But the other people..." _Full disclosure time._ "I don't know if you showed me them in this timeline, but the morning before you... before I couldn't save you, I stopped by your room to return a book and I saw a message from your aunt. And one from your mom. They... weren't nice."

"That's true. But they're not my church, and I'd hate for you to think that. I've gotten so many messages of sympathy and support from my father and my sisters and so many other congregants, it's really made me feel loved and cared for. But you're right, a few people who don't really know what happened said I invited it, and it's hard to ignore that thought. Just like it's hard to ignore what Courtney said."

"Do you think it would help if you saw it all? I know that's a technique that they use sometimes."

"I don't know. I asked Miss Gibson and she kind of ignored it."

"I could talk more about it. Or..."

 _542_. She remembered it because she'd tried 6 possible combinations, lowest to highest, and of course it turned out to be the _last one_.

"Or I think I know enough to get back down there again." She couldn't have explained why if Kate asked, but the thought of visiting didn't repel her like the bathroom did.

"No. I really can't... not now. Besides, isn't that a crime scene?"

"Yeah, I suppose so." But Max's unexpected urge to return to it didn't dissipate.

A bell signaled the end of lunch. Max reached for her messenger bag, and Kate gave her a stink-eye as Max slipped the single serving cereal bowls from her tray into it.

"Yeah, I know. It wasn't so bad, eating with you. But I gotta go to Music class now."

* * *

_That didn't go much better._ Music had let out early and she'd used the time to try and get more math help. Now she stepped out of Mrs. Newton's office and headed down the hall towards her next class, only to hear her name being shouted at her.

"Max! I'm sorry about the other day." The voice came from behind her and took a second to place. Max turned to see Brooke sticking her head out of Mrs. Grant's classroom door.

It was the real kind of 'sorry', the one that didn't mean 'sad' or end with 'for your loss'. It took another few seconds to remember what Brooke might have been sorry for.

"Oh. Don't worry about it." With all the other conversations she'd had since that day, Brooke's crack about the snowstorm hardly registered anymore, and Max was about to be late for Anthropology.

Brooke walked up to Max. "I really shouln't be so glib about things like that right after you lose your friend. I just didn't think about it. And I-"

Max interrupted. "I said don't worry about it."

"I know, I just wanted to apologize. Is there anything-"

"This is the opposite of not worrying about it."

"Right. Sorry."

"Actually... I was gonna ask Warren this but I guess you could help too. I've been having trouble with the polynomial stuff lately and-"

"Sure, I'll tutor you." Brooke's eyes seemed to light up at the thought of helping her, or maybe at the thought of keeping her from spending time alone with Warren. "What time?"

"Oh, uh... The test is on Monday, so maybe this weekend?"

Brooke thumbed through her smartphone for an open spot. "How about Saturday at like two?"

Max felt the need to open her phone and look at her calendar, even though she knew it contained precisely zip.

"Sure. I gotta get to class right now but I'll see you then."


	22. Factors

The knock came Saturday at two. Max had almost finished packing up her math papers to drag across the hall to Brooke's room, but Brooke seemed to have other plans, and barged right in after Max's hesitant 'Yes?'.

Max hadn't planned on having visitors, but it could be worse. At least there weren't still piles of trash and dirty laundry all over.

"So, what seems to be the trouble?"

"Oh... uh... it's all this factoring and finding roots and stuff. I thought I was doing okay but then I got this back."

She reopened her binder and held up the heavily-marked worksheet. Her own figures were barely visible under her math teachers corrections, as if Jackson Pollack had attacked her work while going through a red phase. There were few survivors.

"Okay." Brooke pulled a box up and sat at the desk alongside Max. "I'm in AP Calc right now so I might be a little rusty on this, but let's see what's giving you trouble."

_How about 'everything'?_ Brooke's 'hmm's as she reviewed the paper did little to make Max feel any better.

"So, it looks like you're having a lot of trouble with the signs in the multiple choice. And a lot of your roots are wrong in the third section."

"That's what Mrs. Newton said."

"Well it's pretty easy to fix that though. You can check your answers by taking your end result and foiling it to see if it matches the problem."

"Foiling?"

"Yeah. First outer inner last. FOIL. You know how to do that right?"

Max's blank stare was answer enough.

"Okay, maybe she taught some other acronym. You know how to go from this" Brooke pointed at an expression with parenthesis "To this" She pointed at another without. "Right?"

"Uh... not exactly?"

"Wait, seriously? She's teaching you how to factor polynomials without teaching you how to FOIL first? What's wrong with her?"

"Actually, I might have missed a few classes. 'Cause of... you know."

"Oh. Okay. Well you understand the distributive property right?"

"Probably. Isn't that the one with the parenthesis?"

"Yeah." Brooke scribbled something in parenthesis and put a three in front of it. "It lets you turn this..." On the line below she rewrote the expression without parenthesis. "...into this."

"Okay. How does that work if there's more parenthesis?"

Brooke's pen flew across the page as she demonstrated. Numbers danced around and Max's eyes began to glaze over.

"Wait, slow down. I don't get how you're doing that part."

She tried to show Max again. It didn't make any more sense the second time.

"Wait, how do you know which numbers to use for which?"

"I guess I just have a feel for it? I mean, I remember factors for this number here, and I just kinda think about what they could add up to there."

After a few minutes of attempts at explanations that seemed to presuppose some kind of math instinct that Max didn't have, she wanted to throw the notebook across the room.

"Stop. Where are you getting this?" She pointed to a number on the sheet that seemed to come exclusively from Brooke's manic imagination as she rushed through yet another problem, speeding to the finish line while Max was still stalled at the start.

"It's the difference between different pairs of factors. It defines the location of the parabola and those numbers are the roots. Maybe it'll help if you visualize it..."

Brooke commandeered Max's laptop to pull up a some kind of website that apparently did that, and soon her screen was covered in charts with curved shapes on them, leaving Max behind again. The sound of a violin seeped through the doorway, meaning they'd been at it for two hours now, and Max might as well have spent that time bashing her head against the wall; even the resulting headache was probably comparable.

"Brooke?" Max closed the laptop lid just slowly enough to let Brooke escape with all her fingers intact. "I know you look at this and see some kind of beautiful system that connects and makes perfect sense and binds the universe together, but I'm not like that. I just want to get through this course and then find a job where I never have to do math again. So how do I do this problem?"

That, apparently, got through.

"Sorry. Okay, another approach. Remember doing Punnet squares in bio class? Well, let's imagine these two terms are having babies." She drew a small grid on the page, and somehow, things started to click. As dumb as it sounded, a mommy and daddy factor getting busy and mixing their mathematical genes made some kind of perverse sense. It was still a long and frustrating exercise but maybe not an impossible one, finally.

"Okay, I think you have this pretty well. You do get stuck sometimes with some of the weirder ones though, so I'm gonna show you a secret." She jotted down some ugly looking equation on the notepaper and told her to memorize it.

"Plus _or_ minus?"

"You have to do it twice, once with the plus and once with the minus. That'll give you the two different results. It'll find the roots for any polynomial with three terms."

Memorize a formula and plug numbers into it. _That_ , Max could do. She thanked Brooke and resolved to look up more practice problems tomorrow to make sure she had it down.

Max was about to congratulate herself on a whole conversation without any mention of death or depression when Brooke decided it would be a good time to make small talk.

"How's it been?"

"I'm hangin' in there. How about you?"

"Pretty good. Warren and I made the Science Olympics club, so I've been working on the plans for our energy conversion project, and Warren and Stella have been obsessed with the egg drop lately."

"How's he been?" Max asked, then immediately regretted as she saw Brooke stiffen slightly. 

"We're really happy together." The tone of her voice suggested some kind of trouble in paradise. Max opted to feign obliviousness and change the subject. "That's good. How are your classes?"

"It's been pretty busy, especially since they canceled class for four days. I have a ton of calc work to do, and the Mech-E prof just announced a test on Tuesday."

"Right before break? Ouch. What's 'mechy' though?"

"Mechanical Engineering."

"So, like, bridges and stuff?"

"Yeah, but that's more civil engineering and statics really. I'm more into automotive and aerospace. You know, cars and rockets." Max didn't appreciate the condescending clarification, but didn't object either; after spending an hour hearing about the mommy factor and the daddy factor it wasn't _that_ bad.

"Actual, literal rocket science. I bet you'll do great at that."

"I prefer 'Aerospace Engineering' but yeah. I applied early to Stanford. I don't hear back till next month, but I think I have a shot. Otherwise Georgia Tech or U of Maryland."

"No MIT?"

"Ugh, their campus is awful. And by all accounts it's a crazy pressure cooker. What about you?"

Max cringed at the reminder. "I haven't looked all that much yet. I know there are great photography schools in San Francisco and New York though."

"Well you'd better get on it soon, deadlines are coming up."

"Yeah. Thanks for all your help with this. I might even have a chance on Monday. Now I just gotta finish a paper for English."

Brooke took the hint and collected her calculator and pencils. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Just do a few more problems tomorrow to keep in fresh. And memorize that formula!"

"Will do."

As brooke made her exit Max lay down on her bed and listened to the last few minutes of Kate's violin practice. It was a piece that Max vaguely recognized but couldn't place; the same handful of notes repeated over and over again, changing key every so often, but in a way that didn't fit into measures quite right, somehow missing one beat every few bars. Concerns about time signature aside, it was a pretty piece, and Kate played it expertly, and maybe everything isn't hopeless after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to stop myself from making this entire chapter a lesson in high school algebra. I have been in Brooke's shoes more than I care to admit, and Max's response is quoted almost verbatim from somebody who was subjected to my tutoring.


	23. Goodbyes

_Wishbone lied to me_ , Max thought as she turned in a six page essay on Animal Farm, which had completely failed to be a metaphor for her life.

She'd survived yesterday's math test, and only had to try Brooke's secret weapon once, albeit unsuccessfully--maybe she'd remembered it wrong.

Much to her relief, the photography project that she'd only done half of would be graded and returned _after_ Thanksgiving break.

For lunch she took a leap of faith and sat down next to Dana, who was practically bouncing up and down in her seat with some inexplicable excitement as she ate her collared greens.

"Hi Max!"

"Hey Dana. What's going on?"

"Thanksgiving break starts tonight!"

"Yeah! What're you doing?" The cheeriness was almost contagious.

"My parents have been renting out the church basement and having a big dinner with like 30 or 40 people ever since... well since before I can remember."

"That sounds..." _Terrifying_ "...like fun."

Dana laughed slightly at Max's attempt at extroversion. "It's a bit overwhelming, even for me. But there's so much awesome food, and if I ever get bored I just walk like ten feet and there's more people. What about you?"

"I'm just going back to my parents in Seattle. We'll probably have my uncle over for thanksgiving dinner, but that's about it."

"Bet you'll like that after all the crazy stuff here."

"Maybe. I won't mind the change of scenery at least."

"I bet. It's still kinda creepy seeing that bathroom."

'Creepy' wasn't any near the word Max would have chosen but her sentiment was the same. "Every time I walk past it I can..." _Oh god this is Dana, don't be depressing._ "Yeah, it'll be nice to be home."

"I'm glad you talked to Kate. It seems like it helped."

Max looked down at her tomato soup. "What did she tell you?"

"I told her I was worried, and I asked her if she thought you were okay. She just said, you _will be_."

"That's very sweet of her. And optimistic," Max admitted with a half-smile.

"Nah, you're doing fine. I saw you with your camera out last week. Get anything good?"

"That was just for an assignment, I didn't really enjoy it." Max took a bite of her grilled cheese and regretted it instantly; she gave it a few quick chews and swallowed prematurely so she could speak again. "Sorry, you're trying to have a fun conversation and I'm being all glum."

"No, no, it's okay to not feel happy; don't try and force it. I can find another seat if you like."

"No. Just... what's been going on lately? At Blackwell I mean?" Gossip would normally have _Max_ looking for a different seat, but it was a topic that wouldn't require much audience participation, and now as Dana regaled her with tales of Trevor's latest skateboard tricks or the Vortex Club's drama Max almost regretted spending the last two months as a hermit. She even found herself slightly disappointed when the bell interrupted the time Dana was _almost_ caught breaking curfew by the new security guard.

She wished Dana a happy Thanksgiving, and gave silent thanks that hers would not involve 40 people in a church basement as she left for the science lab.

* * *

When Max got back to her dorm room there was an email waiting for her, with the Blackwell crest at the top. "First of all I would like to say a tremendous thanks to the staff and students of..." she skimmed the rest of the email. What little she saw--phrases such as "Moving forward" and "upholding the fine traditions"--made her eyes glaze over. _It's not as if he's going to be here much longer anyways._ The only useful part of the email was the prediction that "substantial changes are coming to Blackwell in the near future." Or at least it would have been if Max hadn't already heard it from Kate, with more detail to boot.

Kate's voice followed a brief knock on Max's door. "Hello?"

_And speak of the devil. Or angel really,_ Max thought as she welcomed Kate in.

"I just wanted to say goodbye before I went home."

"Oh, yeah." She borrowed an easy topic from Dana. "What's your thanksgiving look like?"

"It'll be at my parents' house, and my aunt and uncle and cousins are coming over. Maybe Grams too if she's feeling up to it."

For something she imagined Kate should be pretty happy about, Max picked up a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Is that the same aunt who sent that letter?"

"Yes. My dad said he told her off over it, but I guess she's still invited. It might be the last year we have it here though. She just bought a new house out in Bend that's actually big enough to fit everybody." She seemed even less enthused with that idea. "What about you?"

"Just dinner with my parents in Seattle. Maybe an uncle if Mark isn't in rehab right now."

"I want you to know, if you ever need to talk..."

"Yeah. I'll text you."

"Or call."

"Right." That thing on Max's dresser could do that too, although god knows when she'd last used it that way.

"When are you leaving?"

"Dad's busy today. He'll be picking me up tomorrow."

"That's a long drive isn't it. I just need to take the bus for five minutes. I could practically walk home from here."

"I'm not even sure why they have that bus. They'd do better with a bike share program or something."

"Maybe you should suggest that to the new principal."

"You saw the email?"

"I did." Kate didn't even have to ask which one. "It sounded like a farewell email, but it didn't actually say anything."

"I'd give him till Christmas at most. Any word from your dad on the lawsuit stuff?"

"I asked him a few days ago. He just said 'These things take time.'"

"Figures." Alt Max's plea deal--the 'Save William' timeline, her spreadsheet had called it--came after what must have been a horrifying six weeks with felony charges hanging over her head. The legal system would probably take even longer to decide what to do with the mess in this reality.

"Anyways," Kate said, "I still have some stuff to pack. I hope you have a nice Thanksgiving."

"You too." Max got up from the desk. A hug seemed appropriate, and Kate happily reciprocated. Max noticed a slight scent of cinnamon, and enjoyed it for a moment before she realized that the sniffing could work both ways, and Max hadn't had a shower since Saturday, and _oh god I'm being creepy_. She disengaged herself from the hug gently, with her panic well-concealed, and they said their goodbyes.

"Don't forget to call me whenever you need to," Kate said over her shoulder as she left the room. " _Any_ time."

"I will." She wasn't planning on it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler for the foreshadowing-challenged: Max is totally gonna call.
> 
> So yeah, Thanksgiving is coming up! That means a bit of a change in scenery, and possibly meeting a new character or two.
> 
> Max might be a bit young to have seen Wishbone in its original run, but I'm sure there were reruns, and I love that opening so I'm not changing it.


	24. Golden

 

Max sat on the curb with a small duffel bag full of clean clothes on her knees. The pile on her floor had exactly enough to make it through six days in Seattle, so it all went in, and now the overstuffed bag bounced in time with her right leg as it shook nervously.

She looked to her left hoping to see a red hatchback rounding the corner. Nothing yet. Her phone said 4:06. _He should be here any minute._

Even though there were no classes on Wednesday, and throwing clothing into her bag took five minutes, Max had told her dad to pick her up around four. That plus the six hour trip meant she'd be arriving home pretty late. Her mother might try to stay up and chat, but if traffic was bad Max might even manage to go straight to her room without even a quick hug. That was some consolation, weighed anxiously against the prospect of spending six hours alone in the car with her dad. 

She'd almost blamed him, once or twice, for pushing her to apply here in the first place. But that was stupid. Coming to Blackwell Academy had been what she'd most desparately wanted, even if she wouldn't have actually done it without his support and nagging. _It's not his fault it ended up... like this._

Her dad's Fiesta was older than she was, and she could hear it coming even before she saw it, a deep familiar putter that, for a brief moment, made Max feel like everything was going to be okay.

She remembered him shouting encouragement as seven-year-old Max strapped on skates and stepped gingerly out onto the ice, and comforting her when it inevitably ended in tears.

Now she had a fleeting fantasy of dropping the facade; crying into her dad's bear hug again and never leaving it. But down that path lay therapy and psychiatrists and involuntary commitment. _I can be a little sad. Should, even. I did lose a friend. But any hints of all the class I've missed, all the nightmares, the self-medicating..._

She put on her best 'only slightly sad' face as he clambered out of the car.

"Hiya Max. Rough start to the school year."

Max nodded and returned a half smile.

He gave her a quick hug and pat on the back. "Sorry we couldn't stay for the funeral. I tried, but as usual there wasn't anyone who could cover the client meetings. How are you holding up?"

"I'm hanging in there."

"That's my girl. Are you all ready to roll? Got everything?"

She tallied off the things she'd need for the trip one last time. _Messenger bag with homework, laptop, headphones, and chargers, and gym bag with clothes, hairbrush, toothbrush, cup, pads, and deodorant._ "Yep."

"Okay, hop in," he said as he tossed the bag in the open backseat window.

As they pulled away Blackwell started to feel oddly small. After almost two months of not setting foot off campus, Max had half-forgotten about the outside world, seen it only as distant scenery, but now she felt the texture of the town, starting with the road down to the coast and the houses that lined it. It would have been pleasant, even, if not for fact that every turn, every sidewalk was steeped in Chloe Price. It was so strong Max could almost smell the bicycle grease and charcoal grills on 5th street, could almost taste freeze-pops they'd shared every Tuesday after soccer practice, and a bit further down, on 2nd street, there'd be the smell of fish and diesel from the docks and sawdust from the mill where they'd almost- 

"So, how's Blackwell been treating you?"

She didn't have to lie as much as she expected when he grilled her gently on class, friends, and her current romantic prospects. She talked about her English paper without mentioning how late it had been. She told the truth about her struggles in Algebra but not the missed classes that caused them. Photography was easy, she just had to pretend she liked Mrs. Cameron.

Relating the few stories she had about her friendships with Kate, Dana, and Brooke seemed to satisfy him; it wasn't her fault if he assumed that there was more where that came from.

Romance, well... She opted to save talk of her budding interest in ladies for, like, _never_. Maybe not 'never', and it's not that he'd object, but that kind of revelation merited a backstory. Which one she could use depended on what Other Max had said during their brief visit, something she couldn't figure out just by looking through her phone. Instead, she threw him a bone in the form of Warren's attempts at courtship.

"...but he was into me a bit too much, and I wasn't really feeling it like that. Now he's dating Brooke." She looked down at her feet and let her dad assume it was related to Warren, rather than the diner flying past Max's window.

During the long pauses in between questions she waited for the sword to drop, until she couldn't stand it and brought it up herself.

"Aren't you gonna ask me about Chloe?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Not really."

"That's fine. How about photography?"

That interrogation was thankfully short; Max talked about her recent series on the Tobanga, and soon enough time had passed in silence that she figured she could safely put headphones in and pretend to listen to music.

An endless parade of fir trees flew past the window as Max looked out. Every once in a while it would be interrupted a splash of yellow or orange from a deciduous tree nearing the end of it's autumn inferno.

Normally she'd get bored of that and put on music and browse facebook after a few miles of repetitive scenery. This time she was still staring 15 minutes later when her dad took a turn off route 6 towards rest area.

"I hope you don't mind, I'm gonna need to take a pit stop."

"Sure." Max answered. She forgot to remove her earbuds, but he didn't seem to notice, and the charade remained unquestioned for now.

* * *

The sun was sinking below the tops of the pines that surrounded the rest stop; their branches cast long, irregular shadows across the picnic bench Max had elected to sit at. She entertained herself streaming more TV on her phone while waiting for her dad to come out of the restroom.

 

"Whatever you do, never get old." Max pulled out her earbuds and looked at him, confused. "I used to be able to make this trip without any breaks."

She stowed her phone in a pocket and turned to talk to him. "Gee, thanks. I always wanted to know about my dad's bladder issues."

 

"I'm surprised you're not off in some corner of the stop taking photos of squirrels or something. Don't they call this the Golden Hour?"

"Yeah, the light's all diffused and the color temperature is cooler. I..." Max reached down into her bag only to realize instantly that her camera still sat on top of the bookshelf in her dorm room.

"Don't you mean warmer? Yellow and orange instead of bright white?"

"That's how artists say it but photography's different. Cooler temperatures are more red. Hotter temperatures are more blue. It's kinda backwards but there's actually science behind it. Something to do with the temperature of the light source." Max pulled her cell phone back out of her pocket and opened the camera app.

"I guess that makes sense. I took astronomy back in college, and I remember the hottest stars were blue, and the cooler ones were red. Not sure I could tell you anything else from that course, but that bit stuck for some reason."

She pointed the phone at the broken corner of the bench; the jagged edge of the wood made for a passable photo if she framed it right. _And it's not like this costs two bucks a shot,_ she thought as she snapped a picture.

"What happened to your Polaroid? Don't tell me you've finally gone digital?"

"No, I just forgot it."

"Want to go back and get it? We're not that far away yet."

"Nah, this'll do." She focused her phone on a nearby water fountain. Thanks to the two seconds it spent auto-focusing, she caught a toddler being lowered back to the ground _after_ a quick parent-assisted sip. _Great, my phone has a sense of irony._

"You sure? I know how much you love that thing. I promise I don't mind."

"I'm sure. Don't worry about it."

"Okay. At least tell me you didn't forget your permit."

"It's in my bag. Does that mean you're gonna make me drive the whole way?"

"Of course not! Just the next half."

He got an eye roll in return. Only in her father's demented world could five and three quarters be half of six. On the other hand, that would make a big dent in the 50 hours she was supposed to log before she could get a real license. And maybe it'd be a decent excuse to not talk.

"Fine." She drew the vowel out in mock displeasure, and made her way to the driver's side.

The seat had to be moved forward a full foot, and the mirrors, seat back, and steering wheel required similarly drastic adjustment. He'd joked about that, when Mom wasn't around; how she must have been switched at birth or something, but she had his hair and her mom's face. Who knows where the short genes came from.

 _Okay, clutch, neutral, ignition, reverse, release clutch. Gently._ She'd stalled the stupid thing a hundred times before. She readied herself to curse her father's taste in transmissions when she stalled it for the hundred and first time but now, somehow, after months without practice, she pulled out almost smoothly.

"You must've been practicing."

Max shook her head no and wondered where he thought she could have gotten some practice, on a manual no less, but driving was enough of a challenge that any substantial conversation was forestalled.

Her dad soon opened his laptop and got to work, looking up only to provide occasional driving advice, most of which was unnecessary. It was well past nine by the time she pulled up into the driveway. In one last irony of the night, thanks to the steep incline she managed her first stall of the evening while putting the car into park. It was moot though; she was about to turn the engine off anyways, and her father didn't even notice it.

None of the lights were on, meaning that Max had avoided her mom's questions at least for the night. Her housekey still worked-- _Wait, why on earth wouldn't it?_ \--and she shouldn't have been so surprised that all the furniture, all the paintings and photos, were exactly as they were when she'd left. There was no uncle Mark on the couch.

She bid her dad goodnight, and walked up to her room to another, much more surreal surprise. The nearly bare walls that she'd left behind were still there, but for some she'd been expecting posters and selfies and... _Oh, right,_ she realized as she pulled her PJs up her ankle-monitor-free legs. _I'm not in that timeline._ She pulled the covers up and reached over to turn off her bedside lamp.

_Thank god._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even if she didn't inherit her dad's height, hipsterdom is apparently genetic.
> 
> I totally overhauled the first four paragraphs yesterday and today. The new version is a lot better tonally, but I haven't had as much time to polish it, so please forgive any weirdness.
> 
> Oh, and I actually looked up the Oregon Graduated Drivers License rules. Then I realized that Max's license would be issued in Washington.


	25. Prescription

The insistent hum of her phone woke Kate from a deep turkey-induced slumber. The screen glared into the dark room, and it took a second to clear her head and read the name. It was 2AM, and Max was calling. Bracing herself, she slid a finger shakily across the screen to answer it.

The voice on the other end didn't even wait for a hello. "Kate! I'm sorry, I know it's two in the morning but I'm kind of freaking out." She certainly sounded like it.

Kate eyed the sleeping bags on her floor and spoke into the phone as softly as she could. "What's wrong?"

"I had a nightmare. I just..."

"You mean?"

"No, not a vision. Thank fucking god. Just- just a nightmare."

Kate cringed at the blasphemy but bit her tongue. "What was it of?"

"It was... it was him. I'm sorry, I shoudn't've called, I'm just gonna freak you out too."

"I can handle it. Please, talk to me." Even if she couldn't this was not the time to show the cracks in her foundation. Kate sat up and planned a route around slumbering relatives to the door. Her sister's Disney Princesses sleeping bag was right in the way, and she'd have to step over it. _Maybe doing Thanksgiving in a bigger house won't be_ all _bad._

"It's not your fault. I mean, maybe it's cause of what we talked about but I don't want you to blame yourself. I just, I don't want to scare you away..."

Stepping gingerly toward the hallway, careful not to wake her sister and cousins, Kate clutched the phone tightly and let herself out of her room as quietly as she could. "I'm not going anywhere. Please. Tell me what happened."

"I had a nightmare. It was like an hour ago but I can't get back to sleep and I don't have my pot with me and I'm still-"

"Wait, pot? Like drugs?" Outside her room there was less risk of waking others, but Kate kept her voice hushed.

"Just for when I'm freaking out like this."

"You have a prescription for that right?"

"...Not exactly. You can lecture me later but... Shit. It really helped me. I could really use some right now."

"You don't need it. Just talk to me."

"I was tied to a chair. Like I was in the dark room. I couldn't see anything but I could hear him... and I could feel him touching me. Like, grabbing my shoulder and running his hands through my hair and down..."

Kate could hear ragged breathing, and the irregular thumping of the phone shaking in Max's hands. From the way her voice trailed off Kate could tell she was being spared the worst of it. "Okay, Max. Listen to me. Can you go for a walk outside?"

"Yeah, I think so. Neighborhood's not that bad I guess."

"Okay. Do that. Don't hang up." Kate sat down in the breakfast nook. There was no carpet on the first floor, and her voice echoed through the still house, but the nook was hopefully far enough from the stairs that she wouldn't disturb anyone, and Kate left the lights off.

"Is that supposed to distract me?"

"Sort of. It's one of the things Miss Gibson told me about for handling panic attacks. Moving around helps get your mind in a different place."

"Sure. Okay. Just a sec."

Kate heard a clunk as the phone was placed on a hard surface, and without a voice to focus on her eyes wandered around the kitchen. The leftovers from dinner had overflowed the fridge, and pies sat on top; the only sign of how busy the room had been just hours ago.

"Gotta be quiet now. Dad sleeps like a rock but I don't want to wake up Mom."

More silence, punctuated by the occasional scuffling sound of the phone shifting in a jacket pocket.

"Okay. I'm walking to the park, it's like two blocks away. Jeez it's cold." The microphone picked up a stiff breeze along with the minced oath, and Kate could picture Max huddling to stay warm, her hoodie barely keeping out the chill.

"Now run." 

"What?"

"Start jogging. Don't stop until you're tired."

After several minutes of jostling the connection dropped, leaving Kate sitting at the kitchen table in silent darkness. She quietly hoped that her advice would help, and opened Plants Vs. Zombies to distract herself while waiting for a return call.

Instead she was momentarily blinded by the kitchen lights, and looked up from her phone to see Lynn at the door, in purple nightgown and nearly-outgrown Dora the Explorer slippers that Kate could have sworn fit fine three months ago.

"Who were you talking to?"

"A friend of mine from school. Sorry if I woke you up."

"That's okay. I wasn't tired."

"Of course you weren't." Auntie Marsh had to yell at them three times to cut it out and go to sleep. Kate envied the boundless energy of a ten-year-old with relatives visiting for the holidays.

"You sounded worried. Is your friend okay?"

"She will be," Kate answered. Lynn's eyes suggested she was holding back questions. "How much did mom and dad tell you?"

"Dad said something bad happened to you and your friends but I shouldn't ask you about it so I didn't. Is it about the teacher in the news?"

"Yes." Kate paused and looked at her sister's face. "What do you want to ask me?"

"Do you remember any of it?"

"Just bits and pieces. Not really sure that I want to anyways." She did her best to put on a strong face, but her sister could still tell how painful the topic was. Kate wasn't sure if she was glad about that or not.

"Oh. Why did he do all that stuff?"

Kate struggled to give an answer that didn't invite more questions, ones unsuitable for her little sister. "He's not a good person. He just did whatever he wanted to, and he didn't care who he hurt."

"Does that mean he's going to hell?"

A question Kate had pondered herself a few times. Her conclusions were objectively supported by scripture and theology, but they still seemed to vary with her mood, and now with her audience too. "Probably."

"Did you know the girl who got shot?"

"No, I didn't. The girl I was talking to did though."

"Is she like how you were after Joshua?"

"Sort of. Grieving is... complicated. It's not just missing somebody. You have all these memories of that person connected to everything around you, and now they're all tinged with sadness."

"Should we pray for her?"

"I don't know. I do it anyways."

Lynn sat down awkwardly, folding her hands in prayer on the kitchen table across from Kate with none of the practiced grace of adults but everything else that mattered.

She looked to Kate for words, which didn't come as easily as usual. "Lord, please help my friends heal. Please help them grow, and flourish, and be happy. Please... please let them be okay. Please..." Kate tried to continue, but everything she could say about getting justice sounded wrong somehow; maybe it was because she was actually saying it to someone now. She decided that the rest of the prayer would be silent.

Kate's phone buzzed with a text alert, interrupting her reverie. She waited a second, took a deep breath, and then opened her eyes to answer it. It was from Max, and there was a photo attached. 

The space needle was the only part Kate really recognized, but the skyline of Seattle was beautiful at night, and Max had captured the lights perfectly; the sky glowed with them and the water shone with their reflection.

 **Max:** Thanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Kate POV chapter!
> 
> One of the names on the red binders had the name 'Lynn' on it. The game never establishes whether or not it's Lynn Marsh. I decided it's not, because Kate's been through enough.
> 
> 'Joshua' is a callback to something that Kate alluded to all the way back in the first chapter; see if you can spot it.


	26. Truths

What little holiday homework Max had was finished, leaving her plenty of time to relax. Spending all that time in her room watching TV felt too antisocial, so instead Max choose to come downstairs with her phone and be antisocial in the kitchen, while Dad made sandwiches from the remains of Thanksgiving dinner and Mom stood at the breakfast bar with her laptop.

Mom broke the silence first. "I figured out a bus route to Arcadia Bay."

Max pulled her earbuds out and paused Netflix.

"Dad can't drive me back?"

He shook his head. "I don't have tomorrow off, and I assume you don't want to go back tonight. Besides, twelve hours in the car is a bit of a drag, even if I do get to make you do half the driving."

"Okay."

"Dad will drop you off at King's Street and you'll take Amtrak to Portland, then there's a bus that'll take you from there to the Arcadia Bay docks parking lot. That only runs twice a day, so you'll have to wake up at seven to make the right train. You'll probably get to school around three."

"Okay."

Max went back to watching TV on her phone. After Walt had died--from the drug dealing, not the cancer, just like she figured from the start--she'd tried a few episodes of The Deadliest Catch, before settling on Doctor Who. A show about time travel was a bit of a risk, but so far they just seemed to be visiting different eras in history, which didn't risk dredging up any unwelcome memories. She wasn't really feeling into it yet, but she was only a few episodes in. _Every single person on the internet seems to love it, even though it can't keep the same lead actor for more than three seasons. Maybe it gets better?_

Her dad paused mid-sandwich and faced Max. "You seem quiet. Are you okay?"

Earbuds out again. They were both looking at her in the exact way that she didn't want them to be; like she was fragile or damaged. That they weren't wrong just made it worse. That she had to pretend otherwise... that was just a knife in the chest.

"I'm hanging-"

"-hanging in there," he finished for her. "Yeah, I know. That's what you told me the first time I asked. How are you _really_ doing?"

Her silence was answer enough.

"I noticed as soon as I saw you on the curb. I was expecting you to have the freshman 15 from all the cafeteria cheese but instead you somehow _lost_ weight. I remember when you came home from a week at photo camp and you wouldn't stop talking the whole way home, but now you've hardly said a dozen words to me all weekend, and you were fine with using your cell phone camera when you forgot your Polaroid. That's not the Max I remember."

"And you were never one for 4AM Black Friday sales," Mom finished.

She'd assumed that her post-Thanksgiving jog had gone unnoticed. _Guess not_.

Mom intensified her concerned look. "You know the school brought in a counselor, right?"

"Yeah... I've talked with her." The wording was chosen carefully, to suggest it could have been more than once while still being technically true. She shouldn't have bothered. Anything short of "I've never met her" would have felt like just as much of a lie. She ran her tongue gingerly over a sore molar.

But if Mom could tell she didn't let on. "That's good. I know it can't be easy losing your best friend right after you were reunited."

Max didn't dare hope that last word meant what she thought it did. She'd always assumed that Other Max had told them how much she regretted not getting back in touch with Chloe. If not then... maybe it was safe to mix in a few lies with her truth? Or some truths into her lies; at this point it was hard to be sure which was which.

"And we haven't gotten much chance to talk about her yet."

He'd let her avoid the subject in the car, but clearly that had only been a temporary reprieve. She nodded slightly and spoke cautiously. "After five years... she changed a lot. You saw the blue hair right?"

"We just saw the black and white photo in the paper." Of course Mom actually looked at the paper. "I could tell she did something with it though."

"When I saw her," Max said, "I almost didn't recognize her. She had a huge tattoo all the way up her arm and her hair was electric blue."

"I bet you two got into a bunch of mischief."

This was supposed to be a sad conversation, but Max found herself having to hide her joy at the thought that maybe there was someone else she didn't need to lie to. Here she felt far enough away from the reality she'd chosen--the one where her only interaction with Chloe had been to sit and listen as she was murdered--that talking actually seemed possible.

"She had a secret hideaway in the junkyard. We hung out there a bunch, shootin' the shit." Figuratively _and_ literally. "She was angry sometimes. About me leaving. About her dad. About her step-dad especially. Things were pretty rough for her with me gone. She fought a lot with... Mr. Madsen." Max caught herself from saying 'David' just in time. "And even Joyce sometimes. Blackwell expelled her. She smoked pot a whole bunch. She was still in there, though. Just took a bit of digging."

"She didn't get you in trouble did she?"

 _Of course she'd ask that._ The question was much softer than it would have been otherwise, but she knew exactly which type of trouble her mom was talking about. "No, she didn't get me to try pot." _I figured that out on my own thankyouverymuch._

She detected a hint of unfatherly disappointment from the other side of the counter and threw Dad a bone. "We did sneak into the pool after curfew one night. Just relaxed and talked and splashed each other.

"Her music was... well it wasn't something I'd normally listen to, but it was fun, jamming with her. And then just waking up next to her..." _Here goes nothing..._ "She was my first kiss."

It wasn't _exactly_ accurate. There had been some fumbling middle school attempts at dating, and a pushy sophomore who got a brief smooch just so he'd shut up. But somehow it felt like the most true thing she'd said all week.

It didn't take long for it to sink in. "Oh!" He flashed her a smile for a split second before he remembered how the story ended. "Oh."

"Yeah. Nobody there knows. Not even Joyce. And now it feels weird talking about it. Like, congrats on coming out, sorry your first girlfriend was m-mur..." Their arms wrapped around her, keeping her from having to finish the word.

And it was enough. There was still so much she could never tell them, but that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One part of writing fanfic is filling in details that the original work left out. For the previous chapter I had to decide if the Lynn on the red binders was Lynn Marsh, or a different Lynn. For this chapter I had to decide a particular detail about the week Max forgot. It would be a bit implausible if _everything_ came out in Max's favor, but I feel this one was important.
> 
> I also suspect that Other Max would have been ashamed at avoiding Chloe and not brought it up during their brief visit.


	27. Principally

 

The first day of class after break felt like a new start, and Max had resolved to put on her big girl panties and catch up with her schoolwork. She was on track to keep her resolution as she left the dorm, feeling clean and confident, with enough time for a rushed breakfast before class. Even if it _was_ English.

She'd almost walked past it without noticing, but the corner of her eye caught something out of place. The dark metal plaque mounted by the North dormitory entrance was missing, leaving a square outline lighter than the rest of the concrete pedestal, and a few traces of glue. Normally that kind of vandalism would leave her in a foul mood, but it didn't take her long to remember whose name was on that plaque.

_Even vandals hate them._

The fire door, insecure as it was, could still only be used as an exit, and the bathroom loomed in Max's path like it had each time she walked up the steps. Food and English were in the North hallway. _Just turn left and pass the trophy case and it'll be behind you._

"Maxine Caulfield." Her eyes left the floor and found the source of the voice: a tall, lean man with graying hair cut into a smart-looking crew. He stood tall in the office door, surveying the bustle before classes began, in a way that made Max suspect that dear old Principal Wells had already been given the boot. And he'd singled her out from the crowd for some reason.

"Max actually. Never Maxine."

"Max then."

She steeled herself for the "we're going to be great friends" speech that his broad smile suggested was coming, but thankfully he seemed to know better.

"And you are...?"

"Dr. James Leigh. But I guess you'll be calling me Principal Leigh won't you."

Max stifled a grin. "That sounds like an adverb."

"Yes, I suppose it does. Dr. Leigh is fine if you like."

"What kind of doctor were you?"

"Not the kind you're thinking of. My PhD's in educational psychology, and I was a professor at San Fran for thirty two years."

"I guess that explains the suit." Tan, tweed, and complete with elbow patches, it could have been straight from the 'college professor' rack of Geronimo's Costumes on Third Street. The only concession to his upgraded title was a bright tie with Christmas lights printed on it.

He smiled in agreement. "Yep. I suppose I'm not as fancy as the last guy. Or as experienced. But I just came out of retirement to fill in for a year or two, so I didn't feel like upgrading."

"Well it _suits_ you."

She didn't even have to do the pun face, he caught it immediately and laughed loudly.

"Haha, yes. I've forgotten how different High School is. I think I'm going to enjoy it. Or at least most of it."

"What part won't you enjoy?"

"Paperwork. Cleaning up messes."

"Don't you have Samuel for that?"

"I mean a different kind of mess."

"Like... the one Principal Wells left?"

"I shouldn't speak ill of my colleagues but-"

"He deserves it. If he hadn't... If..."

"She was a friend of yours, wasn't she." His eyes glanced over her left shoulder, exactly where the bathroom door was. She still refused to look at it.

Max nodded.

"That's going to be the hardest part."

"The lawsuits and stuff?"

"No."

Max felt a sudden need to change the subject. "Oh, I just remembered: Someone stole the plaque outside the Prescott dorm." She'd meant to report it to someone, and the new principal was as good a choice as any.

"Oh, that?" The smile he shot her was the last thing Max expected. "It wasn't stolen. There should be an email later today that explains it."

"What do you mean?"

He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Let's just say it's not the Prescott Dorm any more."

"Won't they be pissed? Is that even legal, since they donated it?"

"I'm sure they'll be quite unhappy, but I had the lawyers check, and there's a morals clause in the donation paperwork. They get involved in some scandal, we get to take their name off."

"And keep the money?"

"Exactly. It was the first thing I did when they put me in charge. We shouldn't have to live with that kind of shadow over us, and he doesn't have enough friends left on the board to stop me."

"What's the new name?"

"You'll see it in the email this afternoon." He smiled as if he was handing Max a present she couldn't unwrap yet. "You weren't even supposed to know about the change til then but I guess Samuel jumped the gun a bit. Anyways I should let you get to your classes. Good Luck!"

There was no time for breakfast now, not even smuggling out cereal. English beckoned and she should be getting her Animal Farm paper back today.

The bathroom didn't even enter her mind as she walked by it on her way to class. Max could already tell. They were going to be great friends.

* * *

Max unbuckled her messenger bag, dumped a substantial accumulation of papers out onto her couch, and started sorting.

First her essay on Animal Farm, marked 89%. Which apparently translated to a C+ because as decent as it was, it had still been two weeks late. She 'filed' it at the bottom of a box and resolved to never think about communist pigs again. Next on the reading list was _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , and Max was already mentally composing an email to Mrs. Hoida explaining that she'd already read it for her school in Seattle. She even still had the essays to prove it lurking somewhere on her hard drive. All that she needed was a substitute to offer up. _Catch-22_ was supposed to be good. Or she could ask Kate for suggestions.

Science had provided her with a few worksheets on endothermic and exothermic reactions, due in a week, along with a table called "Gibbs Free Energy" that was supposed to be used in the process. Those went on the desk, to be worked on at some indeterminate later time.

Her Photography folder had been returned to her with the words "Incomplete, See me" written on the front. At least it's better than a bad grade. Probably.

Math was still looming over the horizon.

The right thing to do would be to get some kind of head start on the chemistry sheet. Instead Max opened her laptop.

Right at the top, sent just minutes ago, was an email from a Dr. James Leigh. The spelling was more British and less civil-war-bad-guy than Max expected, but it must be him.

"Dormitory renaming and ceremony."

She clicked and read.

"Due to recent events involving the Prescott family, Blackwell Academy will be removing their name from the Prescott Dormitory and..."

_Old news._ She scanned the email looking for the new name. Projecting a new front, blah blah, hoping to move forward, etc etc. Renaming the dorm after... _Rachel_. Max'd had all day to guess, but she'd only thought about one name, and it wasn't that one. It made sense though. _Rachel didn't drop out of school, didn't get in trouble, the teachers loved her, and..._

It still stung. _Two girls died. I guess only one of them was good enough to get a dorm named after her._

Principal Leigh's words played over again in her mind. _Is_ that _the 'mess' he was talking about? The delinquent kid who got herself shot on school grounds?_ She imagined herself storming into Dr. Leigh's office, telling him how that 'mess' died saving the town, as she scanned the email for the other name.

"...and we understand that Rachel's was not the only young life cut short by this tragedy. We would like to assure students that Chloe Price is not forgotten, and we are working to appropriately memorialize her as well. The rechristening ceremony will be held on..."

_That's something at least._

Next was an email from Dad with links to colleges she might be interested in. He hadn't gotten angry when she'd admitted she hadn't been in the mood to look. That wasn't his style, and it wouldn't have worked anyways. Instead he went right to guilt-tripping, and enlisted Mom's help to boot.

Another email from Dr. Leigh titled "Greetings from your new Principal", from this morning, a newsletter from the Impossible Project, and an email announcing the upcoming Vortex Club Christmas party. How they hadn't been disbanded Max could only guess--most of the guesses involved the old school administration receiving money. All three emails were marked as read without actually reading them, and Max forced herself to open the links Dad had sent, and look at the photography program application process. _Parents used Disappointment. It's Super-Effective!_

* * *

The new plaque was already installed by the time she left for the cafeteria. There was no hint of patina on the bronze, just a small etched portrait, dates of birth and death, the words "In loving memory", and a name, inscribed into the gleaming metal:

**Rachel Dawn Amber Hall**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After spending ages wracking my brain and trying several dozen possible responses, none of them worked better than a simple 'No' and having the reader fill in the rest.
> 
> Also: Watch me being all subtle showing readers how to pronounce "Leigh".


	28. Looking

"First of all, I'd like to apologize," Mrs. Newton said from the front of the classroom. "There was a bit of a typo in one of the problems, so it didn't have any answer."

Tension was in the air as papers were passed back. None of the other students seemed to notice it, perhaps it was only in the air around Max, some kind of localized cloud that she breathed in as she waited to see the verdict. Her spot in the back of the classroom had ensured that every single person in front of her would see her grade, a fact she realized too late to change seats.

Truth be told, her anxiety wasn't _only_ about her grades. Her back left molar was hurting enough to wake her up once or twice, and she'd finally watched the next episode of Doctor Who last night, against her better judgment. The preview should have been enough to dissuade her, really. Rose had made the same mistake Max had two months ago, and paid the same price, just with daemon bats instead of a tornado. _One more thing to have nightmares about._ Forcing herself to finish the episode just to prove she could had been an especially bad idea.

 _Bet I'm the only person in the world who needs a trigger warning for time travel_, she thought ruefully as her paper finally arrived.

The ink at the top of the paper stared at Max, and she stared right back.

"85% B. Much Better!"

"If you'll take a look at number twelve on the second page? Yeah, I got a sign wrong, there are no real roots. Sorry." Papers shuffled, but Max was still staring at her grade. "I marked it wrong on a few tests before someone--who's apparently been reading ahead in the book--caught it. I think I went back and fixed them all, please let me know if I missed yours."

Problem 12. _Is that the one I..._ she finally turned the page to confirm it. "Good Catch! +1" Mrs. Newton's red pen had scrawled next to her attempt to use the quadratic formula, which had ended in a square root of a negative number. Math rube or not, she'd at least absorbed that that was a Bad Thing. Which was going to make today's lesson hurt her brain even more than usual.

"Now, this next unit is going to cover imaginary numbers..."

* * *

Max spent photography the same way she always had lately: Not Looking at Victoria Chase. Max had been thinking about her more and more since getting back from break, and she'd almost managed to convince herself that it was because of their shared supernatural troubles.

"Now don't forget, when you're using a fill flash with ambient light you have to make sure you get the color temperature right. If you don't your photo will look like this."

The simplest technique was to actually try and focus on the lessons. It made Mrs. Cameron think Max was her most attentive student, and as a bonus she even learned something every once in a while. That was the easy part.

The harder part was not _looking_ like she wasn't looking at Victoria Chase. That could draw more attention than staring, and more attention was exactly what she didn't want. People might get the wrong idea. Or worse, the right one. Either would be a disaster on so many levels, starting with the fact that Vic would probably never give her the time of day again, let alone a refill for the dwindling supply in her stereo speaker. And then good luck getting more out of her about visions or nightmares. Or helping her not slit her femoral, if that was still a thing that could happen.

"The flashes you'll be working with, like most, are daylight temperature. I'm going to suggest you just work in full daylight rather than try to adjust, but if your vision demands twilight or tungsten balance just get in touch with me and I can provide gels."

In truth she was probably being paranoid. She still sat in the back of the classroom, behind the monitor, as inconspicuous as ever. And really, nobody ever looked in her direction. Except Victoria Chase.

_Why won't she just admit what she saw?_

Victoria sat alone in her usual seat; her purse sat alone in front of her on the table. She was like the antithesis of Max. Perfectly coordinated wardrobe, perfectly manicured nails, and a purse that cost as much as Max's new laptop. Max on the other hand... well she showered most mornings, and at the moment she wasn't resorting to the sniff test to pick her outfit, but that was the best that could be said. If she was being honest, she couldn't even use the crippling depression and trauma as an excuse; she'd hardly been much better back in Seattle.

_Aside from the obvious reasons. Like it's insane. Like it shakes our understanding of reality to the core._

But there Victoria sat, looking quite unshaken.

"I'd like to see at least... oh, fifty shots of your subject, ten from each camera angle, but with different flash placement for each shot. And don't just show me the good ones; I want to see your failures as well as your successes."

 _Guess I'll have to borrow a few flashes from the school stock. And a camera._ Max was pretty sure Polaroid didn't even _make_ a camera with a hot shoe, and she didn't have $150 to spend on film either. Unlike Victoria, who didn't even blink at the assignment. She probably had all this stuff and more just lying around her dorm room.

_Is she actually okay with it all? Or in denial? Maybe she's just really good at pretending..._

All signs so far pointed to the latter. Her poise never slipped, but lately she'd been even quieter than Max in class. She answered a question earlier and the entire class stared at her like she'd grown a third nose. Except Max. Max was Not Looking at Victoria Chase.

_She's still taking photos though. Good stuff, even._

"I wanted to congratulate Miss Chase for her second-place finish in the Oregon Tourism Commission's 'Oregon is Alive!' contest."

Another contest that Max hadn't even entered. Victoria smiled graciously on the outside, only the clenching of her fist hinted she was fuming inside at not getting first. She was getting turned down by galleries a lot lately too, and she'd been complaining loudly about that to anyone who would listen. But she was still sending her portfolio out.

 _Why can't_ I _do that?_

Max had escaped conversation about her half-assed half-project with Mrs. Cameron yesterday, and today's class was right before lunch. _No way she'd try and keep me here afterwards. Not after I 'fainted' the other day and blamed it on being hungry._

"Now before you all leave for lunch I'd like to pass on this opportunity. The Simms Gallery in New York is running a contest for seniors, and entries are due before Christmas."

 _What the fuck am I supposed to do for that?_ Truthfully, in three weeks she could do plenty. But she wouldn't.

"The theme of this contest is 'New Beginnings'. The winner gets a $500 scholarship and a trip to New York City."

 _Shouldn't they try that in April or something when stuff's growing?_ Not that she'd've done that anyways; it'd be way too obvious.

"The last contest got a disappointing total of two submissions from Blackwell. I expect everyone in this class to enter this time, and it's going to count for a grade." She looked pointedly toward the corner of the room.

Max responded by glowering, then sinking lower in her chair until the monitor blocked her from view. _Is that some lame attempt at art therapy again? Not gonna fucking happen._

She pushed away the part of herself that knew that Mrs. Cameron didn't choose the contest topic, and doubled down on bitterness. Whatever the teacher was saying now didn't even register.

 

The instant the bell rang she escaped the classroom walking quickly, her face buried in her phone to dissuade anyone who wanted to talk. She pushed her way past a still-perfectly-poised Victoria, nearly running into her, and even rushed past Kate, who looked like she wouldn't have minded a chat.

She stopped halfway down the hall, and gave a cheerfully-decorated locker an undeserved punch. Moments later the hallway was flooded with students and she caught herself, pushing her feelings back inside. _When did I turn into such a miserable asshole?_

The answer to that was pretty easy; it started with a vision of a tornado and ended, well... _Look at all of them. Running around in their perfect fucking worlds like it actually means something._ Feelings like that came every so often. _Should've let the tornado raze the whole fucking town._ They usually passed just as quickly.

Victoria rounded the corner; she caught Max's glare full in the face and recoiled a little before they both averted their eyes. Victoria continued on her way, ostensibly on to her own perfect little world, but Max knew better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I remember Not Looking at Girls. I'm sooo glad I'm not in High School anymore.
> 
> So it's been like 8 chapters since we had some Victoria, and I bet my audience is going into withdrawal. Hopefully the wait won't be that long again.


	29. Wings

Even before she started trying to avoid everyone and everything, Max had always blended into the woodwork. Walking from class to class she slipped around conversations, past friends, and away from socialization, usually without even trying. Nowadays it suited her more than ever.

So it was a minor shock when the janitor caught her walking back to the dorm on a sunny afternoon and greeted her from his bench.

"Hello Max."

"Oh. Hi Samuel." She hadn't talked to him since before the funeral. He had an odd combination of childlike demeanor and ability to latch onto deeper truths that other people seemed to miss. He also talked to animals. Hoping to steer the conversaion toward the latter subject, Max asked him: "How are the squirrels doing?"

"They're all holed up in their nests for the winter. It's very cold but their fur keeps them warm."

"That's good. Any other news?"

"I saw a beautiful butterfly yesterday. She said she was sorry."

"Oh." It was a few seconds before it pierced the usual 'oh isn't that interesting' filter that Max normally applied to everything Samuel said.

"What?" A chill raced up her spine, totally unrelated to the weather.

"She's sorry. She didn't tell Samuel why. She said you'd understand though."

"Maybe?" Was it sorry for giving her the powers? Sorry that they--or _it_ \--caused the tornado? Or maybe for the visions? "What else did it say?"

He seemed not to notice her desperation. "That's all she said, she's sorry for everything. Was she talking about your blue-haired friend?"

"Can I talk to her?" Max asked, without even bothering to figure out how that would work.

"Anybody can talk to her. You already have."

_Not sure me shouting at her and throwing things counts as talking._ "How do you understand her?"

"You just have to listen to them."

_Sooo not helpful._ "When did she say all this?"

"They always say that apologies make you feel better, but you don't sound better. Are you still mad?"

Max exhaled deeply and sat down on the bench next to Samuel. "I guess. I don't know. A lot of bad stuff happened to me. I'm not sure how much she's sorry for. Or how much of it she caused."

"Is that why you hide from everything now?"

"Pretty much."

"Are you afraid of bad things happening again?"

"No. Maybe. I dunno. It sounds kinda stupid when you put it like that."

"I don't think it's stupid, Max. People are afraid of things they don't understand. Like how the squirrels are afraid of people."

H.P. Lovecraft, racist old codger that he was, got one thing right: the feeling of being an ant in a world of cosmic giants, subject to their whims, or at best at risk of being stepped on. Those thoughts had led to more than their fair share of night terrors. But Cthulhu never apologized to the souls he crushed. And now one of those monsters has a face and a name--or at least a gender.

"I guess that's why I'm still mad. It's not what happened, it's that I never understood why. I knew it wasn't bad luck; there was something behind it all. Something different. And this proves it, but I have so many more questions now."

"I wish I could help you more, Max. I hope you find the answers you're looking for."

Max nodded as she got up from the bench and headed toward the doom. One last thing to say occurred to her just as she grasped the heavy door, and she spoke up to make sure he heard.

"Samuel? If you see her again could you tell her I want to talk? And I promise not to throw anything."

* * *

She whipped out her phone on the way up the stairs to the girls floor and texted Kate:

**Max:** You free to talk?

**Kate:** In a bit. Meeting with some friends. I'll text you when it's done.

**Max:** Okay, I'll be in my room.

It didn't bother her at first.

_I hope she has fun with her friends._

But the longer she sat at the head of her bed...

_I mean, it's not fair for her to put her life on hold every time I need to chat._

...with nothing to do but wait for Kate and think about what the butterfly said--or what _Samuel_ had said...

_At least one of us is having a good time._

...the more agitated she got, until she had to put on more Doctor Who to keep from getting irrationally mad.

A knock finally came, several episodes and one sunset later. No sooner had Kate walked in the door than Max sprung the first question.

"Did you feel better when Victoria apologized?" Only after she asked did she noticed that Kate seemed a tad out of sorts. She backtracked. "Sorry, how was the thing with your friends?"

"It was fine," Kate answered dismissively, belied only by a slight quaver in her voice, before she moved quickly to answer the first question. "I do feel better now. The video wasn't the worst thing she had to apologize for; it took a while for me to process it all. But I'm glad she did. I think it helped both of us."

"What do you mean, what's the worst?"

Kate sat down on the bed and rested one foot up on the wooden side rail. "I'd rather not say. She feels bad enough about what she did without everyone knowing. Just trust that I've forgiven her and that's the end of it."

"Fine, whatever." Her curiosity burned, but with Kate keeping so many of her own secrets Max knew better than to push.

"Why did you want to talk? Did you have another nightmare?"

"No, it's not like that, I'm fine. Thanks for taking that call by the way."

"It wasn't any trouble. I'm glad I could help you."

"You really did. How did you know to..." Halfway through the sentence Max realized what a stupid question it was. "You have them too."

"Only once or twice. Don't worry about me though. I have a counselor to help me through them. You just have me."

"And pot," Max added guiltily.

"They actually do give people medical marijuana for PTSD. I looked it up. I admit it still makes me uncomfortable, but if it helps you... I won't give you any more grief about it."

"See? You're so understanding and kind and, like, the perfect friend. I don't deserve this."

"Just because life has been rough lately doesn't mean you don't deserve a chance to be happy."

"I just wish I could be someone you called at 2AM." 

"That's sweet of you Max, but I'm not sure it would be for the best."

It hadn't been meant as an insult, Kate had said it with the kindest smile imaginable, but it still stung a bit, especially since she was probably right. The last chance Max had gotten to answer Kate's call had been passed up, and Max couldn't forget how that ended.

They came to the end of that tangent, and spoke over each other as they jumped back on track:

"What was it-"

"I just talked-"

"Sorry, go on," Kate prompted.

"Yeah. Umm, I... you know how Samuel talks to animals?"

"I thought that was just a rumor. I haven't seen him all that much."

"Well he does, seriously. And they talk back. He's told me about it a few times; squirrels and spirit animals and such. 

"Doesn't that just mean hes... hearing things?"

"I used to think so too, but... I saw him after class today. He said he talked to the butterfly.

"You mean the same one that you-"

"Yeah. The blue one. It said _'sorry'_. _She_ said 'sorry'."

"Wh- What does that mean?"

"I don't even know! I mean, I was never even sure if the butterfly was behind it all, or if it was just some kind of sign or something. I guess I still don't know, really. I mean... shit, I'm not sure I learned anything at all."

"Well, it tells us that the butterfly is a she. And that she's intelligent enough to talk, and empathetic enough to know that what you went through hurt, and feel bad about it."

"Yeah, but then it just raises more questions. Like, is she sorry 'cause she _caused_ it all? Or just like, 'that sucks, sorry all that stuff happened'. And why didn't she say something before? And what is she anyways!?"

"That's just details. There's a powerful being out there that cares for you, and wants you to be happy. What more could you want?"

"I want to understand! I want to... not feel like a toy. Feel like I have control over my own destiny. This doesn't do that. Not even close."

"It's always been enough for me."

"Easy for you to say. You just got fucked over by the normal laws of physics. I have literal gods or spirit beings or whatever the fuck, pulling on my strings like I'm a goddamn puppet and whoops! Sorry we screwed up your whole life. Like, what if the gods gave Jefferson magic powers, and he used those to..." Max stopped herself. "No, I'm sorry. That was mean."

Kate did her best to ignore the analogy. "But nobody gave him powers. She gave them to you."

"And I almost destroyed the town with them! All I really managed to do was give myself PTSD. Why would she do that if that's what was gonna happen?"

"What if she didn't know?"

"That's what gods do isn't it? They know everything and they can do anything they feel like, and woe unto those who get in their way."

"God isn't like that. He loves every-"

"If God's so powerful and kind how come bad shit still happens? Why didn't he stop Nathan, or Jefferson, before they hurt everybody?"

Kate's eyes fell on the comforter between them, her voice hardly a whisper. "You're not wrong."

Max looked at Kate as if she'd suddenly grown a goatee; her mouth opened, but no words came out, leaving her with what must have been a pretty dumb expression. The thought of somehow having beaten Kate at a religious argument was not as enjoyable as expected. _Oh god, did I break her?_

Kate finally spoke up again. "That's an argument theologians have, you know. It's called the Problem of Evil. How could God be all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-loving, when there's still suffering in the world. It's an easy question to ignore when the suffering doesn't affect you, but lately I've been thinking about it a lot. They have a few theories that try to reconcile it all; things about free will or the limits of God's love.

"None of them really felt right, especially not after what happened to you. But I think I understand now. God--or whoever the butterfly represents--isn't omnicient. She can't see the future, at least not perfectly. So when she gave you that power she knew that you were kind and selfless, and you'd use it to help people. She didn't know how badly it would end any better than you did."

"I guess that makes sense." It was a pretty fair theory actually. Or at least Max hadn't had time to think it through and poke holes in it yet. And at this particular moment she found herself more inclined to pull up the comforter and fall right to sleep, jeans and all, than think about theology for much longer.

She settled for simply changing the subject. "What were you doing with all your friends?"

"Just... hanging out and talking. It was nice."

"It's been forever since I did fun stuff with friends."

Kate's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Not that you're not a friend!" Max backpedaled furiously. "And it's great talking with you, but it's not..."

"Not fun?" Kate managed to look offended for about half a second before she broke into a grin. "I'm teasing, Max. I know what you mean."

Max returned the expression with relief. "Yeah. I mean, I like talking with you, but lately it's more like therapy than just hanging out. I miss that."

"I think Dana was planning something for Saturday with a bunch of the girls. I can give her your number; I'm sure she'd be happy to invite you."

A whole day with half the dorm floor wasn't exactly what Max had in mind, but it didn't sound so bad, and Max's calendar was empty as usual.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've felt from the beginning that for all the supernatural trauma Max has been through, she'd need at least a little supernatural healing. Some fanfics take this to the extreme and have a Deus ex Machina make everything happy (Ouroboros for example). There's nothing inherently _wrong_ with that (especially since the tornado was a bit of a Diabolus ex Machina to begin with) but this is not that kind of fic.
> 
> I really should have expected the heavy theological discussion when I started writing this chapter ages ago, but for some reason it took me by surprise when I realized I was 3/4 of the way to an argument about Theodicy.


	30. Focus

After what felt like more than her fair share of glares from Mrs. Cameron, Max finally sent a brief email:

`You wanted to talk to me about my project?`

Max would have rather have just hashed the whole thing out over email, but Mrs. Cameron seemed to have other ideas:

`Yes. Please meet me in my office at 4 today.` was her entire response.

She needed to stop by anyways to borrow equipment for the next project. It still took all the willpower she could muster to knock on the frosted glass door.

"Come in."

Max heard a few bars of "Winter Wonderland" on the radio before Mrs. Cameron reached to turn it off. The music wasn't the only thing festive about the office, the desk was adorned with garlands and there was a cardboard snowman cutout on the wall behind her. The holiday cheer did not extend to Mrs. Cameron's expression, however.

"You wanted to talk to me about my project?"

"Yes, I did. Do you know why?"

"I missed the second part of it."

"And?"

"Uhhh..." Max stared dumbly at Mrs. Cameron.

"Teachers can tell when a project was done 20 minutes before class."

"Oh."

"And you're the fifth person who's used that thing as a subject. It gets old pretty fast."

"Sorry."

"That isn't what I noticed first though. I looked at your first two projects, and the portfolio that got you this scholarship. It's like those were taken by a different person."

"Sorry."

"I don't mean it as a bad thing. At least not entirely. An artist's work can change over their lifetime, through phases and moods and new experience and skill. Your old work had a certain wonder that I very much enjoyed. In this new piece I see not just discomfort but glimpses of anger and grief."

Max wasn't sure where those things were coming from; _she_ certainly hadn't put them in there. 

"I think that you can develop that new perspective and make it a part of your style, or at least part of your repertoire. I do wish you'd chosen a better subject. Still, I get that things haven't been easy lately, and maybe it's not my business to push you. So I'm going to accept the half you already turned in, and give you till next Friday to finish the second part. I'm hoping this time you'll put more thought into selecting your subject, as well as the final presentation."

Max nodded. Between the time she'd learned about the second part and now, Max had given exactly zero thought to what she would actually do for it, which made it easy to say "Of course."

"I also expect your other assignments will be in on time. I'm looking forward to seeing your entry for the contest."

"Yeah. Umm... I'm gonna need some speedflashes and stuff for the off camera lighting project. And a camera." _And a flash of inspiration_.

"Of course. Just fill this out and I'll be right back with everything you need."

The signout sheet had a column of replacement prices, but the exact figure was moot. The sheet might as well have just said "Your parents will kill you if you break any of this."

Max put her hand on her cell phone unconsciously, the web of cracks on the screen a testament to her long history of accidents involving expensive things. She swallowed and scribbled her name on the paper.

At least it all came in nice sturdy pelican cases.

None of the equipment was particularly new to Max, but Mrs. Cameron insisted on walking her through it anyways. Her unnecessary instructions were punctuated with equally-unnecessary advice, like "You can bounce the flash off of the ceiling instead of using the umbrella" and "Don't forget, you can adjust the flash power using the knob on the side". As if Max liked her Polaroid because she was too dumb to operate anything else.

After the umpteenth bit of unwelcome advice Max finally snapped back: "I know what an aperture is. It's literally the first word I ever said to you." It came out angrier than intended, and she reversed course quickly. "Sorry."

"You've missed an awful lot of class. I hope you can forgive me if I don't remember exactly which parts you were actually there for."

The sarcasm caught Max off guard; she hadn't even realized Mrs. Cameron was capable of anything other than boring lectures. But it wasn't undeserved.

"You should consider yourself lucky that I'm letting you turn in half your project late; college professors won't be so lenient."

She was right, of course. _She's bending over backwards to give me a chance of passing, and I'm just bitching at her._

They prepped the rest of the gear in a silence that was at first welcome, then worrisome. As it turned out, Max did have a question about the umbrella grip. She thought long and hard before deciding that it might mitigate Mrs. Cameron's crossness, and that would be worth the dent to her pride.

"How do I adjust the angle on this swivel?"

"That's the weird one, there's a little lever on the side that you have to open instead of loosening a nut. I think the last teacher just fixed it with a bicycle part."

"Thanks." It was a neat little trick, to make it faster to adjust and less likely to slip halfway through tightening. Max filed it away for future use and turned her attention to the DSLR.

She aimed the lens at a plastic Christmas tree on the window ledge and pressed the shutter. It appeared in miniature on the viewscreen, crisp, flawless, and in perfect focus.

"That's a nice shot," Mrs. Cameron said as the image disappeared into the depths of the camera's memory, replaced by a beautiful preview of Max's knee. "It has a certain quiet humility to it."

 _Okay, now she's just reading_ my _emotions into random photos._

She pointed the expensive camera at a few other things in the room to get a better feel for the auto-focus, before deciding to set it to manual and leave it fixed.

_I wish there was some way I just use my normal camera for this. That's the one I'm comfortable with._

Then an idea struck.

"Could I use the same subject for the overdue part and the lighting assignment?"

"I... suppose you could, as long as you are taking different approaches."

Max did her best to hide a grin. That would save a fair amount of setup time, and it meant one less idea to come up with.

"But remember, it won't help your portfolio much to have too many similar images."

"That's true. I'll have to think about it," Max lied. She already knew exactly what she was going to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize it was mostly the devs showing off the rewind mechanic, but Max sure broke a lot of stuff in the original game. Off the top of my head: Kate's book, her camera (twice!) papers in the Price workshop, at least one of the damned bottles, and David's tools (sort of). I'm going to leave you in suspense as to whether the school equipment survives her care unscathed.
> 
> I'm _also_ going to leave you in suspense as to the nature of Max's idea, although if you read closely you might be able to figure it out.
> 
> For those interested in off-camera lighting, most of my knowledge of it comes from The Strobist's excellent [Lighting 101](strobist.blogspot.com/2006/03/lighting-101.html) series.


	31. Optimist

Kate must have taken Max's suggestion to heart, because on Friday she got a text from Dana looking to arrange something for the weekend, not taking no for an answer. The next day a half-dozen girls piled onto the bus into town, and Max tagged along.

She picked a window seat on the bus hoping that Kate would take the one next to her, but Dana got there first. Instead Kate ended up behind Max, forcing her to turn awkwardly if she wanted to be sociable.

The exact seating arrangement turned out to be largely moot though. The trip was a brief six minutes, and Kate talked loudly with Juliet and Dana the whole time. Max tried to squeeze a few words of her own into the conversation but by the time she'd figured out what she wanted to say they were already talking about something else. So she sat and listened. She caught a friendly smile from Alyssa in the seat in front of her, and a story from Juliet about chasing Sean Prescott for a quote from the paper, and it wasn't so bad really.

The bus dropped them off along a section of Main Street that Max hadn't seen in ages. After living for years in Seattle, with businesses sprouting and dying with the seasons, it was no small shock to realize that there wasn't a change in sight. There was still that dentist shop that was immaculately maintained but seemingly never open, and the hardware store that hardly had anything useful but was still in business because it was the only one in town. The old Cascades Used Cars sign still had that big chunk taken out of the logo, and Max could've sworn even some of the cars in the lot were the same. Even the same cracks in the sidewalk were still there, although there were a few new ones too.

She looked at her texts from Dana, just to make sure the promise was still there. The one thing Max had insisted on: no Two Whales today. Dana hadn't even objected or said something about healing or bravery. Max wasn't sure if that was out of concern or pity, or just cause Dana didn't feel like breakfast food, but she'd decided to take it.

Instead lunch was at Fresco's, a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint just off of main street. Max had a few fond memories of eating here, and it too seemed trapped in time, right down to the flickering neon OPEN sign in a time when most businesses had upgraded to LEDs. The inside felt smaller, but had the same worn linoleum and old fake-woodgrain countertop, and the menu hadn't changed either, unless you counted the years of fading.

The only concession to their eat-in customers was a single round table that the girls barely fit around. It was even tighter when the pizza arrived; the table felt like a bowl full of elbows, and Alyssa's ended up in Dana's veggie pizza more than once. With mouths occupied, conversation was slower, and when Max timed her bites just right it wasn't too hard to contribute. It helped that the subject was something Max could actually talk about.

"I really think Joffrey's gonna die soon. I mean, he's just begging for it, right?"

Max had to jump in and correct Alyssa's misguided optimism. "If this it was any other show he'd've died seasons ago, but instead they keep beheading Starks. I think George just wants us to suffer."

This time it was Kate and Dana who ate in silence, unable to contribute. _Kate's probably not even allowed to watch it._

"There's the dwarf guy though," Juliet chimed in. "He's cool, and a good guy, _and_ he's not dead."

"...Yet." Max finished for her in between bites of a Meat Lover's she was sharing with Juliet. She'd taken to chewing only on the right side; the pain on the left side of her jaw hadn't gotten any better.

Alyssa still disagreed. "I think Tyrion's in it for the long-run. He got stabbed in the face and he's still going strong."

"Wait," Brooke interrupted. "I thought Tyrion was the dad."

"No, that's Tywin."

Dana gestured quietly to Kate and they tossed their empty plates and wandered outside, presumably to talk about something that didn't include beheadings and incest in the first episode.

"Yeah, but that's just the kind of character he loves killing off, the ones you think are safe."

Stella sat on the other side of the table with all the smugness of someone who already read the books.

"He can't kill off everybody though. There has to be someone left at the end to sit on the throne."

"I dunno," Alyssa deadpanned in between the last few bites. "Maybe the ruling class will all kill eachother off and the people of Westeros will get a shot at representative democracy. It wouldn't be so bad an ending."

Max gave an uncouth snort, joined by Juliet and Stella.

"Now I'm picturing the election done Westeros style," Max said. "Like, the house of Romney having a strategic marriage with the Palins in the north."

"Palin was last election." Juliet knew her politics of course. "This one was more like the Freys making a pact with the Iron Islands, then being routed by the Army of the King."

"Why the Iron Islands?" Max asked.

"I dunno. Have you ever been to Massachusetts?"

"Nope."

"I haven't either but I always imagined it being pretty cold and grim."

"Not really," Alyssa interjected. "I spent a few summers there sailing 420's with my cousins when I was a kid. It's actually really nice, and it's a lot less humid than here."

"Sailing 420's?" Brooke finally finished chewing and chimed in, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "That some kind of drug slang?"

Alyssa rolled her eyes and provided an explanation with a flat tone of voice that hinted at how many times she'd been asked that before. "A 420 is a class of racing sailboat. It's called that cause it's 4.2 meters long. So, kinda small, used for training and stuff after you get used to the Opti."

"Which is?"

"Optimist. That's an even smaller boat. Just enough room for one and maybe a small kid. You see 'em every once in a while on the bay. They're the ones with a 'Q' on the sail."

That detail, oddly enough, connected with a memory so faded Max hadn't even realized she'd forgotten it. "I think my uncle took me out in one of those up in Seattle when I was really little. All I really remember was steering around the seaweed and leaning over the side a bunch to keep from tipping over."

"That sounds like an Opti alright," Alyssa confirmed.

Juliet stood and gestured at the girls outside. "Let's not leave them in the cold."

Max stuffed the last bite in her mouth and got up to follow. The wind was picking up now, blowing through her hoodie like it was hardly there, and when it pointed in the right direction she could overhear the girls in front of her talking about flurries in the forecast. After just half a block she started shivering, and quietly cursed the train schedule for causing her to leave her heavy jacket in Seattle.

She wasn't sure where they were headed exactly; Dana had mentioned shopping, but the only thing Max remembered being down this street was the long-shuttered Xtreme Fitness building and a bunch of houses. Dana seemed to know exactly where she was going though. _Hopefully somewhere indoors_.

_Maybe Dana lives down this street. Shit, I don't even know if she's from Arcadia Bay at all. Just like I didn't know Juliet's last name or..._

As they passed the corner Max grinned. Finally something that had changed. The outline of the 'X' was still visible on the sign, but they were covered up by new letters: "Bay Thrift".

Dana stopped to give a pep talk before they went in. "This is my secret weapon. I'll have to swear you all to silence, okay?"

Max wasn't sure who she'd need to keep it secret _from_ , but she nodded along with the rest of the girls.

"Make sure you pay attention to the color of the tags. Some of them are on sale, just check the sign by the front. And remember, you gotta look hard to find the good stuff! There are always a few jewels here, you just gotta dig."

Max really didn't need to be told how to use a thrift shop, but she enjoyed the rousing speech anyways.

Dana threw the doors open and shouted over her shoulder: "Let's go shopping!"

**To be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this chapter into two because it was growing a bit long for my liking. Even after that, the second part will still be among the longer chapters in this fic. When I first started it I called the chapter "A Good Day" but it didn't really make sense after the split. The Optimist is a real type of boat, and I added it without even intending it to be significant; it wasn't until a few days ago that the right title smacked me in the face and lent a whole additional layer to the chapter.
> 
> Given that this is early 2014, they haven't seen the Purple Wedding yet, but they'll get to in a few months. Enjoy the dramatic irony.


	32. Vintage

As soon as Max passed through the thrift shop doors she broke from the group and made her usual beeline to the electronics section. The christmas decorations were background noise almost as much as the actual store speakers, which played "Wonderful Christmastime" as she spied the right shelf.

 _35mm is pretty much as common as dirt, and about as useful_ , she thought as she took stock. There was the usual pile of that here, the only one even close to tempting was a Pentax SLR body that could be cool if she could ever find a screw-mount lens to fit it. Piled next to that were a few 110 toy cameras, a disposable one with half the exposures already used, and a handful of worthless old digital cameras, including an "EZ-Share" she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.

She picked up the disposable camera and smiled for a selfie, wondering how long it had been on the shelf and how many others had done the same thing. _For $0.49 plus developing fees it might be worth finding out._

She froze when she saw it. A Polaroid Spectra, sitting at the back of the shelf. It took several seconds to be sure of it, and a few more seconds to dig it out from behind a VHS camcorder and a tangle of old webcams.

She'd only had William's old camera for a few days, but even after all this time she could remember its every bump and scratch, and this one wasn't it. There was a scuff mark on the corner that wasn't familiar, and the peace symbol sticker on the bottom was missing. Opening it took effort, and she winced at the grinding sound coming from the joints.

It was pretty worthless, all things considered. There was no way that it worked right, she could even hear the sand inside as she shook it. Plus it was priced at $20 for some insane reason.

Yet she still held it carefully, almost reverently, as if it was her new birthday present from Chloe. The weight was the same, and as she lifted it up to look through the viewfinder her hands felt right in a way that they hadn't in a long time.

She hoped that Joyce still had that box of things for her. It'd be worth the painful phone call.

The shutter did nothing, and there was no film cassette inside. Eventually she ran out of excuses to keep it, but still couldn't put it down, until a voice snapped her out of her memories.

"Hey, try this on!"

Max looked up to see Dana, standing at the end of the aisle with a smirk and a denim vest with hot pink fur lining. It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud.

Dana gestured towards the racks in the back. "I found it over there. It's never gonna fit me, but I figured you could rock it pretty well."

"I'm not sure that's my color! Looks comfy though."

Back in Seattle her friends had a rule about thrift stores: If someone handed you something, no matter how ridiculous, you had to try it on. And possibly pose for pictures too. Wielded properly, it could be a source of unforgettable moments: hideous sweaters, ridiculous bridesmaid dresses, and the shortest of shorts. Wielding it improperly could be even more memorable, especially if you didn't limit yourself to clothing, and Max had photos to prove it. 

So Max held out her hand to accept it, while looking around the aisles for suitable revenge.

The jacket _was_ comfy, but even Dana conceded it wasn't Max's color. Or size. Plus a few buttons were missing. "I do kinda need a jacket. But not this one," she said as she put it back on the hangar.

Dana took that as an challenge. "We'll find you something." She practically dragged Max toward the clothing racks, ignoring her stammered reluctance.

Next came a gray rain jacket with a nice liner, and Max would have happily settled for it; it was comfy and in pretty good shape, but Dana rejected it out of hand. "Too boring." She said. Max _liked_ boring. But back on the rack it went, to be followed by a series of misses.

There was a white down jacket that looked like a good idea until she tried it on.

"I look like a marshmallow."

"Yeah, you do. Try this one."

Max put on the next jacket, or tried to. It had looked promising--a deep purple parka with fleece lining--but somehow ended up being at least two sizes too small. She could hardly get it over her shoulders, and when she lifted her arms it would have shown her belly button if not for the t-shirt she had on underneath. Dana checked the tag and laughed before showing it to Max, who glared back at her. _Children's XL. Riiiight._

The next hangar Dana handed over held a short leather number that was a tad snug, and probably wouldn't keep her warm any better than her usual hoodie. She was about to put it back when she caught a whiff of something, and the scent slammed her back into the smallest bedroom of the Price household.

Only a handful of hours spent there, two months ago, yet it was etched indelibly into her mind. The way the light played through the flag draped across the window, the clutter of posters and permanent marker on the walls, the layer of junk on the floor, and the scent of it all. And Chloe Price herself, toking it up on the futon.

 _It's not fair._ It wasn't fair that she had to be gone, that she'd never hang out with her in that room again, never speed away from the cops like a maniac or lose at darts or kick ass at Double Dash. Max always hated that game because Chloe would always win, but now she'd give the world to run over another one of Chloe's bananna peels. _I had a chance to do exactly that, didn't I. And what did I choose?_

"Are you okay?"

Her eyes were misty, and she was staring at the jacket like it was a tombstone. "I just need a minute."

"Take all the time you need." Dana didn't ask, didn't have to, but Max felt a need to explain anyways, and the words finally came to her.

"It's been two months today. I almost managed to forget it for a while, but that camera I was holding? She had one just like it. And now this jacket smells like her room."

Dana took a sniff. "It uh... it smells like pot."

A smile poked it's way through the tears for a second as Max nodded.

"Pot and leather and sweat and just a little musty."

"I... didn't realize you were that close."

"This isn't hers; it's too small. But it smells the same. And they say that the sense of smell can trigger the strongest memories..."

Stella poked her head out from behind a rack of dresses. She seemed to want to talk to Dana, but saw Max's face and decided to leave them alone for now.

Dana finally put the leather jacket back on the rack. "Is this why you really wanted to avoid that other place?"

"Yeah. Lots of memories there too."

"That's okay. Never really cared for it anyways. A bit too greasy."

Max's eyes narrowed. "Just for that I should drag you there next time."

"I'm glad I could motivate you," Dana deadpanned. "Anyways, if you're up for it I have one more to try."

She held out a wool jacket that had all the colors of the rainbow in a bold plaid pattern. It was a tad oversized, but the minute Max put it on she knew she'd be taking it home. The pockets were huge, it was nice and warm, and Max couldn't deny it looked pretty good. It even had a hood.

Perfect jacket in hand, they joined up with the rest of the group in the next aisle.

Her 'new' jacket got a handful of compliments, and she returned a few at Alyssa's jeans and Brooke's ironic Windows 98 hoodie. She did catch a concerned look from Stella, which she defused as best she could with a shrug and a half-smile that she didn't have to fake.

Max attempted revenge for the pink vest by handing Dana the pinkest bridesmaid dress she could find, which promptly backfired by looking so good Dana ended up buying it. There was a moment when a great photo of Juliet in an flowery red cloche hat presented itself, but by the time Max managed to dig her camera out of the bottom of her bag the moment was gone. The camera stayed out just in case.

Finally in the checkout line, it occurred to Max to wonder what was planned next. Compared to Seattle the options were slim, at least as far as she remembered them. She had fond memories of the toy store on main street, but she wasn't twelve any more. There was the hair place on Third Street but Max didn't really need a trim. Odds were good that there was a nail salon somewhere, and maybe that bookstore was still in business, but that was about it. No cineplex or department stores, not even a full-size grocery store. The ice cream place would be closed this time of year, and Arcadia Bay's idea of a coffee shop was the Two Whales.

Fortunately Max wasn't the only one wondering.

"Didn't you say there was going to be a movie?" Kate asked Dana.

Alyssa answered for her. "Yep. Frozen!"

Max had heard of it. Even living under a rock the past two months it would be impossible not to, especially if that rock had wifi. But she was pretty sure it wasn't out on video yet. "How? Did they open a new theater in town too?"

Alyssa smiled at Max. "Not exactly. My parents have an awesome home theater setup and they're in Vegas for the weekend."

"What about the movie?" Max asked, although she had a guess as to where that would come from.

Brooke held up a thumb drive and confirmed it. "Got a whole bunch of stuff to watch, courtesy of my boyfriend."

Max left the thrift shop with a decent haul: Two cute t-shirts that successfully straddled the fine line between 'vintage' and 'old', the half-used disposable camera, the rainbow jacket--which she took out of the bag and put on as soon as it was paid for--and three cheap King-size bedsheets, which she refused to explain to Kate. She left behind the rest of the cameras, and a pair of jeans that fit pretty well but not better than the half dozen pairs she already owned.

It was Kate's idea to stop by the general store for movie snacks, and essentials, but Max was grateful for it. She resisted the urge to buy a month's supply of pop tarts and instead settled for a more reasonable box of instant oatmeal and a bag of junior mints. Stella picked up a big box of microwave popcorn to share, and Alyssa assured the group there was plenty to drink at her house.

And there was. Max started out with sprite, but as the second movie started she grew bold, and accepted a big mug of boxed wine from Stella. She'd picked a comfy spot at the end of the couch, not the best for actually watching the movie but snug between Kate and the armrest. Idina Menzel belted out a triumphant chorus, rendered in glorious surround sound, and maybe that warm glow Max was feeling wasn't just the alcohol.

Chinese came halfway through the third movie, though eating it while watching a leaked screener of 47 Ronin felt a little bit racist. Or maybe it was just the fact that the movie was terrible, and by the end the comments from the couch would have made for a pretty good MST3K episode if not for broadcast obscenity rules.

The bus driver hardly batted an eye at the gaggle of tipsy girls who piled onto the last bus back to campus, or their loud conversations about boys, or even their repeated singing of "Let it Go", hampered by the fact that the only lyrics most of them remembered was the "Let it go" part. Christmas lights flew past the bus window, draped around trees and rooflines that were hardly shadows against the dusky sky. Windows sported candles, or provided glimpses of Christmas trees, or even snapshots of the families that lived inside, framing them in portrait.

After one last hug from Kate and Dana Max's bed beckoned. But on the way there she noticed something amiss. Victoria's door was ever so slightly ajar, just enough that it should open if pushed. There was no light coming out from under it.

It cast a sinister light on Victoria's absence from classes yesterday. A foot from her door, Max stopped and turned around. _A quick knock wouldn't hurt, right? If she actually answers I'll just try to buy more pot._

But even the lightest knock Max could manage pushed the door open. The only illumination in the room was the scant light spilling in from the hallway, the rope lights were off and even the blinds were drawn. Getting caught peering in would be Bad, but she had to be sure. The room was completely unoccupied.

Max slept like a rock anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If my calculations are right this chapter will push the total word count over 40k.
> 
> Also, I'm generally hesitant to include illustrations, but Max is now wearing something like [this](http://i.imgur.com/kFf8fY5.jpg). I'm no fashion expert, but I think it would suit Max pretty well. I will totally link to fanart of her wearing that or any of the other outfits I mentioned, if anyone wants to give it a shot.


	33. Images

Max had Sunday all to herself. Finally, a day with no classes, no enjoyable-but-tiring outing on the town, and nobody to tell her what to do. Except for all her teachers, who seemed opposed to the idea of free time as evidenced by the pile of papers on her desk. But she had all day to do that. First she deserved some time to really relax, starting with the snooze button.

Blankets lay in a rumpled mess at the foot of the bed, made superfluous by warmth of the morning sun pouring in the windows, and cast off before she was even awake. Specks of dust floated gently in the air, and the whole room felt like a comfortable bath.

Since it was no longer blaring an alarm, Max actually had to take the pillow off of her head to locate the phone on her bedside table. Next to it sat her Polaroid, out of her bag for the first time in ages.

She reached for it and snapped a selfie. _For old times' sake?_ It slowly developed to reveal that her hair was a complete mess, and she attacked it with a hairbrush before bringing up Netflix.

When hunger finally won out over laziness, she threw on her new jacket and smiled into the mirror for a minute before heading out. If she'd paid closer attention she might have seen whether Victoria's door was still ajar, but she passed it without even looking.

The cafeteria stopped serving breakfast at 11, and Max just barely managed to slip in to grab cereal. She even snuck a mug of coffee back to her room to drink as she started the second season of Doctor Who. In between episodes she made plans for the lighting setup on her photography projects, and a few attempts to get started on the chemistry homework. Partway through the worksheet she noticed herself humming "Let it Go" and grinned.

A facebook message from Fernando popped up around Noon. She'd traded a few messages with him the first month after moving out of Seattle, but they'd slowly fallen out of touch. It was friendly, "how's it hangin?" kind of message; from the tone of it he hadn't heard any of the news from Arcadia Bay. Max couldn't bring herself to fill him in.

She managed to hit the cafeteria again just as they switched from lunch to dinner, so she got both. The Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes had to be enjoyed on site, but the BLT and chips were more portable, and found their way into her bag to enjoy later.

As she ate her phone buzzed with a message from Dana. She was expecting a follow-up to her little breakdown in the thrift store, but instead got:

 **Dana:** U still have my charger right

 **Max:** Yes.

 **Dana:** Could I have it back some time this week

 **Dana:** No rush just want 2 make sure ur not planning 2 keep it 4ever

She rolled her eyes at the textspeak and responded in actual English.

 **Max:** I still need to order a new one.

 **Max:** I'll do that right now.

 **Dana:** Thanks its a pain 2 remember every time i visit my dads

She wasn't going to admit it to Dana but she had sort of hoped she could 'borrow' the charger for the rest of the year, or longer. She'd looked at the Dell website when she first got use of her laptop back, and found them for an absurd price. Amazon had offbrand ones that were cheaper, but also sketchy and riddled with poor reviews. In between was a selection of used ones that looked serviceable. _Time to bite the bullet,_ she thought as she placed the order.

* * *

A knock came a few minutes into her fourth TV episode of the afternoon. She wracked her brain trying to remember if she was expecting someone or something, but came up empty. _A peephole would be nice_ , she thought as she reached to open it.

The visitor was taller than she expected, and sported a blue uniform that sent Max into a momentary panic. It took all her willpower to not look at her stereo, and greet him instead.

"Hi Officer Berry."

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble."

Max breathed easier, and reminded herself to never take up poker as she invited him in.

"How've you been?" he asked.

"Pretty good actually. Considering." They'd met in both timelines; her journal in this one talked quite a bit about how he took her statement after the shooting. He was "so kind", offering something to drink and suggesting maybe they could postpone until her parents were in town to offer moral support. Truly dedicated to public service. At least, that's how Other Max felt. This one had just rolled her eyes a bit as she read the entry.

"That's good. Keeping up with your studies?"

"Yeah. Mostly." Max was pretty sure this was Small Talk, so mentioning how grief had torn her life to bits would be a bit of a faux pas. "How about you? How's the uh... police stuff going?"

"No complaints I guess, other than working Sunday shift. I, uh... I wanted to tell you this in person. The prosecutor is planning to offer Nathan Prescott a plea deal for testifying against Jefferson. He'll be in a state psych ward till he's 'recovered'--who knows how long that'll be--then probation for six years."

"That's all?"

"The shrinks say he'll be inpatient for a long time, years maybe. We might have gotten something tougher if you could've testified. I don't mean it's your fault, but it didn't give us much to scare his lawyers with. They'd probably get him off on insanity or self defense or something anyways though."

There were two images of Nathan Prescott in Max's mind, one pleading for mercy and another threatening and violent. In spite of everything she knew, it was still difficult to reconcile them. This was a fair sentence for the first one, a painful miscarriage of justice for the second.

Max could imagine what course events would take if she testified now. No way she would stand up to the kind of cross examination those fancy lawyers would bring; she couldn't even honestly answer the most obvious question they'd ask. _"Oh yeah, I didn't tell the police anything at first because of time travel."_ Even if she lied--even if she _could_ lie, believably, under oath--it sounded like the least appealing thing ever. Only a few disconnected snippets of Nathan's voicemail came to mind, but it was enough to make her at peace with the path of least resistance.

"Okay."

He looked surprised at her easy acceptance of the idea. "Uhh... I'll tell the DA you're okay with it then?"

"I didn't know it was up to me. But yeah." It actually felt good, for a moment, letting go.

"It's not up to you, not really. But the DA likes to hear from the victims. Especially for something this high-profile, and _especially_ with an election year coming up. I have to admit I was expecting you to be more upset about it."

"I still don't remember much, just... enough to make me think he needs that kind of help."

"That's very grown-up of you. I mean, I'm talking to her family next, and I can't imagine they'll be as zen about it."

There wasn't much in the diary about Joyce and David, just a brief mention of a short conversation about loss, and some reference to a box of Chloe's things that Other Max had been looking forward to receiving way more than this Max was.

But just the mention of them lent Max a new, unwelcome perspective. To them, Nathan was a dangerous rich kid whose family could buy their way out of justice after murdering the person who mattered most to them, and... and herself. He'd spend a few years getting better in some cushy facility while Chloe spent them in the ground. Max felt her stomach tighten. She'd just played right into it by declining to testify. How could she even look at them after this?

"I can't fault them for that. I..." She choked on her words and looked helplessly at the officer's badge as the thought of justice slipped away. "I failed them. And her."

"Now, none of this is your fault." The same litany she'd heard from everyone else, and feigning agreement and acceptance was becoming an easy habit. "You couldn't've know what was gonna happen. We might've had two sets of parents to notify."

_Or a whole town's worth._

"Wait, isn't it some kind of conflict for you to be working on his case, since you work for them?"

"For the Prescotts you mean?" He seemed offended at the very idea. "I don't know where you heard about that, missy, but I quit that the day your friend died. Cost me and my family an awful lot, but it's worth it to be out from under their thumb."

Max regretted mentioning it, but no rewinds now.

"What about Jefferson? Is he getting a deal?"

"I don't know actually. That's being handled at a different level. Maybe Nathan can help get him life without parole. Far as I'm concerned though, he could burn forever in hell and that'd be too good for him. My daughter was friends with one of the girls, you know. She had some kind of reaction I guess, to the drugs, and now she gets seizures. And it's just sick to know that there are those photos of her out there."

 _"Out there."_ Those two words instantly suggested a whole new level of awful in store for Kate and the other dozens of girls the newspaper had declined to name. Max tried to act as if she hadn't understood the significance of them, but you don't get far in the police force without being able to read people, and Max might as well have been a billboard.

"I'm sorry, I... I'd appreciate it if you kept that to yourself."

"How bad?"

"I really shouldn't say anything."

"We deserve to know how many people saw." _Shit._ "Or at least _they_ do."

"We're not even sure yet. There's a huge investigation going on; the FBI's in on it, and even Interpol I think. They never uploaded them as far as we can tell, just printed out copies--way more than we found at the scene. We're working to trace where they sent them. Max, if that goes public we'll never find the evidence. You understand right?"

After a few seconds of trying to figure out what Daniel Kessler had to do with anything Max managed to picture the right Interpol and nodded.

"Not a word. You promise?"

"Yeah." Max wasn't sure what she'd been more afraid of, telling all this to Kate or keeping it from her. Having the decision dictated to her was in some way a relief. But their talks had been so nice, and now they'd be... colored by this. She wished she could just forget, but not even her rewind power could have defused this bombshell.

"Don't you have to get back to work?"

"I guess I do. Sorry I didn't have better news."

"Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, an Indie Rock joke, plus angst. I feel like Jeph Jacques.
> 
> In retrospect I wish I'd been able to put this part a little later, and let Max keep her good mood a bit longer, but sadly it was not to be.


	34. Money

Only one week back in school and Max's resolve to go to classes and take care of herself like an adult was already starting to falter, worn down by the day-to-day grind, worsened by poor sleep. The list of things she was putting off was growing rapidly: an email to Mrs. Hoida, sorely-needed tutoring on Imaginary Numbers with Brooke, applications to a few colleges, a dentist appointment, and two and a half photography projects.

Saturday had been a welcome respite from the stress, but the socializing had been almost as draining as class. She'd planned to work on the photography project Sunday night, but after Officer Berry's visit she hadn't been able to touch the school camera.

Victoria hadn't been in any classes today. Max wasn't sure what was worse, worrying about something overdue, or worrying about something that she could do nothing about.

And now she'd been summoned to the principal.

His email was short:

`I'd like to meet you in my office sometime today. Don't worry, you're not in trouble.`

She hadn't been in trouble the last time she sat at this desk either, but she still wasn't eager to repeat the experience, and the windows and books reaching up to the ceiling had an imposing effect no matter who was sitting in front of them.

Seeing his chair made her uncomfortable too, in a totally different way. _Shoulda just let her steal that ugly thing._ By the time he finally finished his friendly greeting it took real effort to focus on his words.

"I assume you saw the new plaque?" He spoke as if he expected her to be happy about it.

"I saw it." Her voice made it clear enough that 'happy' wasn't the right word.

"Was there something wrong with it?"

"You know the portrait you used for the etching?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Amber chose it from a few Mrs. Evans put together. What about it?"

"It's the same portrait that was on all the missing person posters."

He nodded.

"You know, there was another girl in that photo."

He tilted his head slightly. "Oh?"

"She cropped herself out when she made the flier, but I saw the original."

"Miss Price."

"Was _she_ the "mess" you were talking about?" She didn't even bother trying to hide the indignation in her voice.

"Perish the thought. I admit memorializing her will be a bit more... complicated given her history with the school. But that's why I asked you here."

"'Cause you don't know what to do?"

"I've seen a few ideas from staff, some kind of plaque or fountain, but they didn't sound right. Since you knew her pretty well, I thought you could suggest something."

"That was just when we were kids. I was in Seattle for the last five years and we... didn't keep in touch. Wouldn't it be better to ask someone like Trevor or Justin?"

"I will, but I can tell you have strong feelings on the subject, so I'm asking you now."

For all her anger at the new name of her dormitory, Max hadn't given thought to what would make her feel better, and focusing on ideas now proved difficult with all the memories swimming around the room.

Finally some wisp of inspiration floated past her and she grasped at it. "It was all about money, wasn't it. Whitewashing Nathan's file. Ignoring me when I-" She almost said "reported Nathan's gun to Wells" before remembering that didn't happen in this timeline. "Letting Nathan throw parties where girls got drugged. This place lived on donations from that scumbag. Students didn't feel safe reporting Nathan because of it."

"I can't say that you're wrong. I can only promise you that it won't be like that in the future."

"So prove it."

"Go on..."

"Renaming the dorm was practically free, right? Just the cost of a piece of brass and a lawyer to make it official."

"It meant giving up a big fundraising opportunity, but yes. You want us to do something... more?"

"Scholarship in Chloe's name. Full ride." She described the idea as it solidified in her mind. "Need based. Just for women. Or maybe LGBT students or something?"

"That's a rather... pointed way to suggest it."

"It wouldn't be a proper memorial to her if it wasn't sticking it to the man a bit."

That earned a laugh, then a sigh, from the man behind the desk. "You already know there are lawsuits against the school."

"Yes." She immediately didn't like where this was going.

"And even if we don't have to pay a massive judgement, the scandal will definitely hurt enrollment. Donations have already gone down, and that was before I stuck my thumb in the eye of our biggest patron. And do you know why the board had to call in a favor from a retired college professor to run the place?"

It hadn't even occurred to Max that the position would have been hard to fill. "Nobody else wanted the job?"

"Bingo."

 _That explains Mrs. Cameron I guess._ "So you won't do the scholarship."

"I didn't say that. I do like the idea. Unless you and your friends come up with something better I'm happy to take it to the board and fight for it as best I can. I might even have a chance if you help, maybe give them that speech, put a petition together. But I hope you understand, they have the final say on this."

 _Gathering signatures and public speaking._ He'd managed to pick the two things that least appealed to Max. _Still, for Chloe..._ "I'll think about it."

"She deserves to have someone like you stand up for her."

"I'll think about it," she said again, with a bit more determination, but also a hint that the conversation was over.

"Well thank you for your input, and good luck with your studies. You have my email address, feel free to use it."

A deep rumble of a diesel from outside reminded Max of one last thing as she headed towards the door:

"Hey, if you want to save money you should fire the bus driver and start a bike share program."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I mean, Arcadia Bay is tiny, and there's like three people on it usually. Plus you get to brag about being green and stuff."

"Thank you for that suggestion. I'll think about it."

* * *

**Victoria:** Hey Max, we need to talk.

Victoria looked at her phone and held down the backspace key.

 **Victoria:** You weren't fucking with me were you.

Backspace again. They'd given the phone back to Victoria hours ago, and she still hadn't come up with the right thing to say.

 **Victoria:** What the hell is going on? _Backspace._

That certainly wasn't it.

 **Victoria:** I'm sorry for snapping at you. I do need your help.

_Not right either._

**Victoria:** If you're fucking with me I'll kill myself.

That would be one hell of a text to get from an unknown number, and there was no way Victoria's name was in Max's phone. Plus if the staff found it... It was deleted like all the other attempts.

 **Victoria:** Hey, you know those visions of Mark Jefferson I've been having? Well they finally pushed me off the deep end. The nurses just let me have my phone, and you're the only one I

That one was a bit much; it was deleted even before it was finished.

 **Victoria:** Fuck you for messing with my head while I was drunk, do you know what that did to me? I'm in

_No way._

**Victoria:** Did you really have the same dream I did? I need to know I'm not insane.

Her finger hovered over the backspace key. She read it over, and then over again, and a few more times before the screen shut off automatically. She didn't turn it back on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what part of my brain Max's 'sticking it to the man' line came from but I love it.


	35. Sick

Max awoke with a jolt, drenched in sweat that had nothing to do with the morning sun draped over her bedsheets.

After a few moments lying in bed the details of the dream faded, leaving behind only a hole in her gut and the image of Nathan's face, inches from hers, with bathroom tile in the background.

She fantasized briefly about faking sick and skipping all her classes for the day, but if she did that every time she had a nightmare she might as well just go back to Seattle.

So, another day, another handful of cereal.

* * *

Daylight faded along with the last few bars of 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen' that wafted across the hall from Kate's room. Even after a full day's worth of classes the nightmare had left a sick feeling in Max's stomach, which wasn't helped by the kale salad from the health-nazis in the cafeteria.

Now that Kate's practice was over Max wanted nothing more than to stop by to say hi, unwind, and relax like she'd been doing the last few weeks. Except now she couldn't. Not without Kate asking questions she couldn't answer, like why the wall between them was suddenly there again, or what she saw each time she looked off into the distance.

_Right back to how it was a month ago. Thanks, Officer Berry. Guess I'll just have to deal with the nightmare on my own_ , she thought as she unpacked the cases of school equipment.

A set of black sheets from the thrift store formed a serviceable backdrop, and an old moving box worked nicely as a stand. Upon them sat the subject of her photography project, the one thing in the world she was most comfortable with: her Polaroid JobPro.

A few times while setting up she'd chuckled at the meta-ness of it all, and even once wondered if people were still making Xzibit memes. Taking photographs of a camera, with a camera...

The last flash finally in position, it was time for a few tests. And of course things didn't work right. The sync speed was off, and the key light's angle was completely wrong.

It yet another dozen tries to get the flash levels just so, especially since she was hoping to underexpose the black background. Sunset was pretty early this time of year at least; light coming in the windows would have complicated things even further.

Placing her camera in the middle of a dark void was an odd choice for 'comfort', but her gut said that was the right direction, and it was rarely wrong.

After finally getting everything just so, Max remembered the assignment's extact requirements. Five camera positions, ten different flash angles each. She ran out of good setups quickly, and grit her teeth as she started on ones she knew would be bad. And they did turn out awful for the most part, although there was a surprise or two.

For a shoot with so many lighting adjustments, the quick release on the flash grip was invaluable, and if she ever had her own gear that would be the first thing she did with it.

_What did she say? One of the last teachers did it?_

She realized who halfway through the next adjustment, and let go of the clamp, leaving the flash to flop downwards. _Not 'one of'. Him._

It shouldn't have been a surprise that he'd touched this equipment. He was there for years, teaching students and... more. And all at once the whole setup felt far too much like the room under the barn: full of cold, impersonal hardware surrounding her poor camera. There was no way she could continue the shoot like this, now that she saw it.

"Fuck you!" The curse was paired with a shove that sent the whole lighting tripod crashing to the floor. "I used to love this!" As if the equipment could somehow hear her. _Idiot_.

She'd said it far louder than intended, and after a second to collect her wits she hurried toward her door and cracked it open to see if anyone noticed. The hallway was empty. Odd for six in the afternoon.

Victoria's door wasn't ajar any more, but that was hardly comforting. She hadn't seen her in any classes since Thursday, or anywhere on campus for that matter. On Friday Max assumed it was a fluke. Now it was Tuesday and Max could picture all sorts of ways that she might have killed herself.

After a moment's consideration she had to be sure. Her first knock wasn't answered. Nor was a second, louder knock. Even hitting the door loud enough to wake the proverbial dead got no response, and Max fervently hoped that nobody else had heard it.

There was somebody she could ask. It wasn't a conversation she was looking forward to, but Max had gotten plenty of practice gritting her teeth for that sort of thing lately.

* * *

"Wake up sheeple" was written across Taylor's whiteboard. Max knocked, and wondered if it was ironic or not as she waited for an answer.

Several knocks later the door opened just enough to reveal Taylor, wearing a scowl and an oversized t-shirt that sported an orange dot with a Q in the center.

"What the hell?"

According to her diary the last conversation they'd had, if it could be called that, was a brief "Sorry about your friend" as they passed each other in the halls. The whole Vortex Club seemed to have left her alone after the funeral; either on Victoria's orders or out of sheer pity.

"Umm... Is Victoria okay?"

Taylor's face got somehow angrier at hearing the name. "What do you care?"

"She hasn't been in class since Thursday."

"Yeah, she's got the flu."

But that didn't add up, and had been volunteered a little too quickly besides. "Why isn't she in her room?"

"Why do you care?"

"I'm just worried about her, that's all."

"Don't you hate each other?"

"Not exactly. It's... complicated?"

Taylor smirked. "I bet it is. I bet you have this weird thing where she treats you like slime except for a few moments where she actually seems sincere and kinda friendly."

The description was pretty much on point. Max could only stammer "Yeah, that," in response.

"She does that act with everybody. Except me of course. Little bits of kindness and honesty in between all the nastiness. It's just to get what she wants; half the time it's not even true."

"I know she's not lying to me." _She couldn't be. She got all the details right. How else would she know Kate was on the roof?_

"You don't know a thing about her." Taylor leaned against the door, fixing to close it in Max's face.

"I know about her tattoo."

Max wasn't even sure why she'd said that. Victoria had shouted her out of the room at the mere mention of it, and she'd probably lied about posting it online too. Whatever the significance, it had the desired effect. Taylor pulled Max inside and shut the door behind her, then collapsed onto her sea green couch.

For someone who was best buds with Victoria, Taylor's room was surprisingly drab. Where Vic's room had carefully arranged art posters and rope light, this one just had dozens of movie posters and Broadway fliers, arranged just as carefully, but all cockeyed and overlapping in a way that was meant to feel disorganized. The furniture was not unlike Max's, a haphazard mix of thrift and hand-me-down and cheap IKEA, and only the laptop and stereo--and all the exotic vacation photos scattered on the wall above them--hinted at a family that could afford Blackwell tuition.

"It didn't get that bad. Thank god. Besides, she gave me all her blades last week. Don't look so surprised, she was actually doing well for a while."

It hadn't been a look of surprise. Max wasn't sure what she'd stumbled onto, only that it was some piece of Victoria that she shouldn't have. Like the information she'd extracted from Taylor with her rewind powers, an invasion of privacy that no longer felt entirely okay.

"What happened?"

"Just some kind of drunken nervous breakdown. I don't know if I should say what about."

_That sounds familiar._ "Let me guess..."

It would be risky, but if she was right she'd earn Taylor's trust and more.

"...she drank a whole bottle of gin and started ranting about Mark Jefferson."

"I guess you _do_ know her." Taylor dropped herself onto the couch. "I came back from drama club and she's shitfaced in her room screaming and sobbing about... _him_. How he was going to murder her. Seriously, I've never seen her so freaked out. And yeah, she was blitzed out of her mind on gin and God knows what else. I told her he's still in jail but it didn't help worth shit."

"So you called 911?"

"Hell no. Didn't she give you the number?"

Max shook her head 'no'. "What number?"

"It's for a friend of her parents. He takes care of things for them, _quietly_. Private clinics and stuff." Taylor seemed relieved that there was at least one thing that Victoria trusted her with more than Max. "If you ever think she needs it just... let me know."

"So she's okay then?"

"Yeah I guess. She's being taken care of."

_"Taken care of."_ was probably meant to be reassuring, but Max couldn't help but hear the phrase in the ominous sense.

"Could I have her cell number?"

"She doesn't want to talk to you."

"Are you sure?"

"It's been almost a week. I've texted her assignments and gossip and everything and all I got back from her is a text from her saying "food here sucks". I don't even know where "here" is. And I'm her best friend!"

Max was entirely unprepared to deal with an emotional breakdown, but that seemed to be where Taylor was heading.

"I mean, we were always there for each other, with the whole Nathan thing and the video, and my mom, but lately she's..." Taylor seemed to remember who she was talking to, and grasped at her rapidly departing composure.

"What happened with your mom? If you don't mind me asking..." Feigning ignorance was almost easy.

"Uhh. Nothing really. Just some surgery and shit."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah. She's fine now. It was just kinda hard for a while."

"That's good. Sorry you had to deal with that."

Taylor shrugged. "It's not as bad as what happened to you."

"I guess."

"And honestly I don't know what Victoria's problem is. Nothing bad happened to her. She was just kinda guilty about the video and Nathan and now she's a wreck for no reason. Or at least she's not telling me the reason."

"She has... weird stuff going on."

"What stuff?!"

"I probably shouldn't say. Just... it can be hard to admit you need help sometimes. Even when all your friends would move mountains for you. And sometimes there's only so much you can do, no matter how hard you try."

"What, that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yeah."

Taylor scoffed.

Max tried harder. "No, seriously. Like the guy in the hole in West Wing?"

"What the hell is that?"

"Nevermind. Just gimme a chance to talk to her and-"

"No. No way. I already told you way too much. You can try when she gets back."

"But I can help her!"

"Yeah, right." Taylor grabbed Max's shirt and shoved her toward the door. "Get the hell out of my room."

* * *

_At least she's not dead_ , Max thought as she headed back down the hall.

_But Victoria's still having visions. Bad ones._ And Max's best guess as to the meaning of the tattoo was no less alarming.

And it was all because of _him_.

The flash she'd toppled didn't look particularly broken, so she ignored it and shoved the sheets into a pile in the corner for now. She had plenty of homework from classes other than Photography. And, stupid as it sounded, she needed to figure out some way of doing the lighting project that didn't feel like she was engineering her own personal Dark Room.

_Fuck him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who enjoyed the original, I've revisited [Life is an X-File](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9904427/chapters/22198730) to add a brief epilogue.


	36. Film

Wednesday started out like most school days had lately, with one too many snoozes and at best a quick mug of oatmeal before heading off to class. After a whole morning full of boring, and a lunch in solitude, the monotony was interrupted by an email from the Blackwell secretary.

`Miss Caulfield: There's a package for you at the front office.`

It took Max a few seconds to remember that she actually _was_ expecting something, and the realization was a bit of a let-down. No early Christmas gift or care package, just a "new" charger for her laptop, so she could give Dana's back.

She pondered stopping by to pick it up before Photography, but found she didn't care enough. _It can wait 'til after Drawing class._

* * *

"Hello Maxine!"

Max tried not to grimace at the Christmas cheer dripping from Mrs. Evans's desk, or the secretary's insistent use of her full name.

"You got a package for me?" Max asked.

"Two, actually."

"What?"

"I almost forgot about it until you walked in just now. There's one for you that's been sitting here for months now. I know I emailed you when it arrived. Guess it wasn't too important." She chuckled at her own remark as she dug through the cabinet.

The laptop charger box was already out on the desk, but the surprise package took some digging, and she finally pulled it out from the back of the pile. It was a thin cardboard box that Max recognized instantly. She used to get them at least once a month.

Around the time Max had moved to Seattle the last factory that made Polaroid film closed down. She'd taken the news hard, and was preparing to hold an actual funeral for her beloved camera when the some Danish guys stepped in to continue production, and the Impossible Project was born. Their film was expensive--over two bucks a shot for black and white, and a little more for color--and had to be ordered directly from the factory, but it kept her old camera going, and there was nothing like it in the world. After days of waiting, that box meant that her new film was finally here.

Except that Max hadn't ordered it. _This_ Max hadn't ordered it. _If it's been here two months..._

She signed for the packages and stuffed one in her bag, and the other under her arm as she left for the dorms.

* * *

The boxes sat on her bed as she went through her papers from the day's classes. 

She almost didn't bother opening them. There was none of the typical anticipation of new gear or a much needed resupply. Her desk drawer was already well-stocked with film; no need for more any time soon at the rate she was going. The Impossible Project did have the occasional special edition two-color or pastel frame pack, which might have been exciting to Other Max but not to this one.

But she needed to make sure the charger actually worked, and there was some lingering curiosity that drove her to open the Impossible Project order. Plus the shipping box was too big to shove in the drawer unopened. A nail file sitting on the dresser made short work of the tape, and the box opened to reveal the wrong kind of film.

_Idiot._ She double checked one of the packs to be sure. _I spent like $100 on film I can't even use._ The green label meant that these cartridges were 1200 series film, meant for other cameras like that weird sideways ProCam or...

_Chloe's camera._

_Figures._ she thought disdainfully. _Some fucking friend I was. Can't spare a text message for five years, then I order this before she was even in the ground._

She would have wished to be Other Max if she didn't hate her so much. _Getting over Chloe's death just like that... like she didn't matter at all. And getting all excited over a new camera when there's a funeral to attend._

According to her journal, that camera was in a box of things that Joyce put aside for Max. It was probably gone now; sent off to some church rummage sale or dumpster after Max had ignored a fourth call from the Price household. As sad as the thought made Max, she wasn't sure if she could handle holding it again, if she even deserved it.

_Would she understand? She really wanted me to have it, but... she'd get it. Wouldn't she? It's not like she never dealt with grief before._

The new charger looked fine, and worked as far as she could tell. She wrapped the borrowed one around itself to return to its owner.

The other box, with the film still in it, went under her bed.

* * *

"Hi, Max!"

"Hi." Max leaned over the coffee table and held the power brick out to Dana.

She took it and tossed it right into an open suitcase on the bed. "That was fast."

"Yeah I guess. Packing already?"

"That's just for this weekend. I'm doing an early Christmas at my dad's house before going home."

"Oh. uh... Sorry. I didn't know."

"It's okay. I get three dads and a mom, and they're all great, so it's not so bad."

Max blinked and mentally moved the apostrophe in "dad's house" one letter to the right.

"How've you been?" Dana asked.

"I had a lot of fun last weekend. Shame we have to go back to school."

"Ugh, yeah, I know. Mrs. Hoida just gave the whole comp class a six page paper due before holiday break, so there goes my first Christmas."

"At least you get two?"

"Yeah." Dana shrugged. "Double the presents. Are you gonna be up in Seattle for yours?"

"Yeah, as usual. Just me and the parents. Maybe an uncle. Gran might come, but it's a long trip and she hasn't been doing well lately."

"Sorry to hear that."

"It'll be okay. Thanksgiving was hella boring with just parents there, but I have friends I can call too."

Max caught Dana looking at her wrist again. The first time she hadn't paid it any mind, but this time she realized why.

"I keep forgetting to put it back on after I shower. I can leave the other ones on, but Chloe's is leather so..."

And then, out of nowhere, Max realized there was one more place that Chloe's camera might be.

* * *

_Right under my nose for two whole friggin' months._

As soon as she had the thought there was no question in her mind. Other Max couldn't have known that her old film wouldn't work in Chloe's camera until she'd actually tried it. The only way she could have done that was... right under the bed, in the box. Sitting right on fucking top.

Max exhaled deeply, not even aware that she'd been holding her breath since halfway down the hall. Dana was probably still wondering about the reason for her clumsy apologies and abrupt departure.

There was no heavenly choir, not even a warm tingly feeling as she lifted it out of the box. It was just a camera. No reason for her hands to tremble, or her breath to leave her.

And definitely no reason for her to curl into a ball and lie crying on the floor for several minutes.

At least the carpet was sort of soft.

 

She finally got up and reluctantly placed the Spectra on her bedside table, next to her old JobPro. The pairing triggered a few more moments of tears before she was able to pick it up again and look through the viewfinder.

It was perfect. And she knew exactly what she was going to do for her project. The flashes were still set up in the corner by the radiator, all she needed to do was right the one she'd knocked over and set up the backdrops again.

There was another thing that she needed though. She hesitated before she sent the message, red binder in the front of her mind, but figured she could pretend at least for a little while.

**Max:** Hey Kate can I borrow your camera?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game ignores the film issue, so I just assumed Chloe gave Max a few packs of extra film along with the camera.


	37. Names

It was quarter past four on a Thursday and Kate's violin was silent again. Just like last Thursday, and the Thursday before Thanksgiving, and Max was beginning to see a pattern to it.

They'd walked back to the dorms together after class, and Kate had seemed in a hurry to get back to her room, so she must be in there. Apparently the hurry wasn't to start voilin practice, though.

Half past four Max was across the hallway knocking on the door. "Kate?" _It could be a big group project or something._ "It's Max." _Or some kind of study session. Maybe a religious thing?_ "Are you in there?"

The door opened. Half a dozen faces stared at her. All girls, all about their age, maybe a touch older. Save Kate's, none were familiar. And it probably wasn't fair to judge based on their appearances, but the group sure didn't look like an Abstinence Club meeting.

"Come in Max." Kate's voice was warm and welcoming, and Max obediently stepped into... whatever this was.

There were two girls on the couch, and one on Kate's bed. The desk chair was turned around to join two folding chairs, with Kate, a blonde in a sundress, and a girl with pink hair in them, forming a kind of circle. The girl on the bed--a tall, black-haired woman with olive skin and piercings--motioned for Max to take a seat beside her. Max remained standing.

A freckled girl with a bushy red ponytail closed the door behind Max and sat back on the couch next to a black girl even smaller than Max, who wore her hair in small, tight braids with wooden beads at the ends.

"I should probably go over the ground rules again." Kate spoke with a kind of authority that Max hadn't witnessed before. "Nothing that's shared here leaves this room, _ever_. Not even to a therapist unless you take out all the names."

 _...shit._ Max instantly realized what this was, and what Kate was doing. The door was right behind her, but Max was just as caged-in as the rabbit over on the dresser.

"Nobody has to share anything they're not comfortable with. You can just listen, and that can help too."

_She planned this._

"And remember: This affects everyone differently. There's no wrong way to react to it, just healthy and unhealthy ways to cope. It's important to respect that."

_She sounds like a fucking therapist._

"Now why don't we all introduce ourselves again. My name is Kate."

_As if I don't fucking know who she is._

"Last October I was at a party when I was drugged." Kate caught Max's glare and paused for a moment before continuing uneasily. "Someone took a video of me kissing a lot of people, and posted it online. Then Nathan kidnapped me and Mark Jefferson took photos of me while I was unconscious."

She sounded more like she was introducing herself to a classroom playing 'two truths and a lie' than recounting trauma. _Wonder how many times she's practiced that little speech._

Kate looked to the girl in the folding chair by the couch, a tall, thin girl with a pink pixie cut and a black tank top with stick figures on the front. The girl leaned forward in her chair and glanced in Max's direction, then rested her elbows on her jeans. At least she wasn't staring.

"I'm Megan."

Megan didn't deserve to be glared at, and Max did her best to hide her anger for the moment.

"I was drugged just before Rachel disappeared. She was a friend of mine, so... Fuck, I don't even care about the photos."

The black girl on the couch paused for a few seconds to be sure Megan was finished, then spoke.

"Same story, pretty much, just two years earlier." She looked directly at Max. "Roofied at a party. Ended up as Jefferson's zonked out model. Don't remember much of it. Never reported it, cause who the hell'd believe me over a respectable teacher." Max had never heard the word 'respectable' spoken with so much venom. "Oh, and my name's Tyra."

Max could already tell she wasn't going to remember half of the names here. Just those faces, and the thought of them groggy and terrified, with Jefferson leering at them from behind his camera.

The redhead spoke next; her gaze only rose once or twice from the carpet to meet Max's.

"I'm Lucy. He only got six photos of me. I had some kind of reaction to whatever he dosed me with, and I started seizing. He just takes a few more shots, then dumps me on a street corner." She put her thumbs in the straps of her overalls and took a deep breath. "Thought it was just a worse episode than usual. I had no idea til last month. Or October I mean. Then I find out there's photos, and it's been messing me up ever since. Even if it's just him and the police that saw 'em, it's just awful."

They seemed to be going clockwise around the room, so after that punch to the gut it was Max's turn. All eyes focused on her, and her insides turned to lead.

Kate offered some reassurance. "Remember, you don't have to share anything if you don't want to."

"I'm Max. I... I'm sorry. I can't do this." Even if she wanted to, she didn't dare. And right now she didn't even want to.

"Hey, it's okay," the redhead on her right--Lucy, wasn't it?--said. "I didn't even give my name the first time. Kelly?"

Kelly sat on the bed and stared out the window. "It was three years ago now. Almost four. When I woke up I went to the police right away. Did everything you're supposed to, SAFE kit, PEP, Plan B and all that. Nothing came of it, 'cept maybe police asking all the awful bullshit questions like it's still the 19-fucking-50s, like I must have done something wrong. I thought-"

* * *

Kelly was interrupted by the slam of the door, and when she looked to her right Max had left. "Whatever."

Kate looked to the blonde girl on the other folding chair. "Lynn?"

"Why bother?"

So Kate did her best to get the meeting back on track. "Kelly, you were telling us about when the police contacted you again. Did you want to con-" A chime and a buzz from the phone on her desk interrupted, but she hardly missed a beat. "-continue?"

"I guess the thing that bothered me most is that he was acting like this was such great news. Like I should be super thankful that I wasn't raped after all, and that we caught the guy. And I mean I guess I am glad, just so he can't do it again. But I mean, jesus, it's been three years and I thought I was done with this bullshit."

Checking her phone would be inappropriate, even though she knew who it must be. Another message elicited the exact same chime, but it somehow managed to sound more urgent than the first time, and Kate finally gave in.

 **Max:** What the hell

 **Max:** How long were you planning that

 **Kate:** Cam we talk later?

 **Max:** Fuck you too

 **Kate:** Please don't be like that. I'm just trying to help.

Kate went back to listening, even though Kelly was giving her story a level of detail that made Kate's stomach churn.

After several minutes with not a single chirp from her phone, Kate waited for an opening to excuse herself. "I'm sorry, I have to go take care of something." She felt their stares on her back as she opened the door, and realized she probably shouldn't have bothered being vague. Hopefully they'd understand.

She knocked as politely as she could on Max's door. A conversation wafted down the hall--Dana's door was never shut--but no sounds of Max, not even yelling at her from inside to go away. She knocked louder. Still nothing. Trying the handle was a risk, but if Max hadn't shouted by now maybe...

The door swung open. Everywhere she looked she saw messes--the bed was unmade, the desk buried in papers, and the carpet covered up in laundry--but no Max.

 _This is bad._ The stereo was broken, the houseplant had long shuffled off this mortal coil, and a messenger bag lay carelessly on the couch, spilling papers onto the floor. _I should have known something was wrong when she avoided me all week. Or when she borrowed my camera yesterday._

Kate closed the door quietly and rushed up the stairs. The wind carried the shouts of two boys practicing their spiral throws up from the quad below, and blew a few stray wisps of hair into Kate's face, but Max wasn't on the rooftop.

The cafeteria was busy, but not so busy that it took more than a minute to be certain that Max wasn't in it. There was no sign of her in the halls either.

Kate's jacket was still in her room, there was no going back to get it now, but she braved the bitter cold to look around the campus. She even managed to find the log they'd sat on the other day, but not Max. Finally back in the main hall, shivering heavily, she pulled out her phone to double check. Still no response, so she tried again.

 **Kate:** Where are you?

Another minute of silence passed before Kate sent more texts.

 **Kate:** I can talk now.

 **Kate:** I'm really sorry.

 **Max:** ...

 **Max:** For what?

 **Kate:** What do you mean?

 **Max:** Do you even get why I'm pissed?

 **Kate:** Because you weren't ready?

 **Max:** Cause I told you no and you tricked me into it

 **Max:** Cause you basically told the whole room that Jefferson drugged me

 **Kate:** I wasn't trying to trick you

 **Max:** And yeah, cause I'm not ready.

 **Kate:** Can we talk in person please?

 **Max:** Baseball bleachers. Don't bring any of your 'friends'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've gone from just a few original characters to introducing five in one chapter. I was wary about including mostly physical description of them, because I know that it can be problematic, but since we are in third person limited perspective that's all Max can know about them, and I tried to give them all a chance to drop some kind of hint as to their backstory and personality. Some of them will be more fleshed out, some might not get more than a few lines after this, but I did my best to make them much more than just, well, names.


	38. Shit

Max sat at the top row of the bleachers. The rainbow coat glowed in the fading twilight, making her easy to spot against the shadowy green and black of the treeline.

Their breaths made matching clouds, which the breeze carried down the field as Kate walked up the seats toward her, aluminum clanging beneath her steps. Another small cloud rose from a joint in Max's hand, which she wasn't bothering to hide from Kate.

As Kate reached the top step Max spoke without looking at her. "I told you I didn't want that."

Kate sat down next to Max. She winced at the cold metal on her thighs, but grit her teeth and tucked her dress under them as best she could. Max slid down the bench to put a few more inches between them.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring it on you like that. I wanted to explain everything and have you want to come when you're ready. But when you showed up I realized they might get suspicious if I acted like you shouldn't be there, then invited you later."

"Why didn't you just come out and talk to me in the hall or something? Or even just fucking tell me what you were doing on Thursdays instead of being all mysterious about it."

"Maybe if you hadn't been avoiding me all week..."

"I talked to you just last night! You could have said 'hey I have this thing tomorrow wanna come?' or even just fucking texted me, or sent a Facebook message, or email, or any one of the zillion other ways you can get in touch." Whether Max would have actually responded wasn't important now.

Kate seemed ready to respond in kind with an angry comment, but then thought better of it and bowed her head.

"You're right. I didn't think of that but you're right. I just pictured you coming in and being so relieved you could finally talk."

"I already told you it's not that easy. You think I want to come listen to a bunch of girls who were in the dark room and have to pretend I wasn't?"

"You won't!" Kate seemed eager, almost happy, to reassure her of that. "The police never released the names of the victims. So for all they know you could be one of them. That's why I made the ground rules. To protect you."

Max was hardly mollified. "How long were you planning all this?"

"Ever since Miss Gibson suggested a group. I volunteered to organize it. When she gave me the names of the girls who were interested I just acted like there was one more name on the list, someone who wasn't ready to come yet. Please, I did everything I could to make it safe for you to talk."

"And when the _hell_ were you going to tell me about it?" She emphasized the obscenity for Kate's benefit.

"I kept putting it off. I guess I was scared that you'd turn it down again. I really wanted to help you. I guess I ruined it now."

"What kind of things do you talk about?" Finally a question that didn't have anger behind it.

"Mostly the stuff that happened. How it affected us and our lives, how we feel about it, and how we deal with it all. I... I don't want to go into detail. I have to take the rules seriously."

"Does it help?"

"Usually. It's hard, but I feel better afterwards."

"Wish it could help me."

"I think it still can." Kate slid down the freezing aluminum towards Max, and this time Max didn't shy away. "You're always welcome to come back, whenever you're ready. I'll make sure of it. I've done my best to make it okay for you. Besides, nothing's ever perfectly safe, sometimes you have to take a little risk to make progress."

Max exhaled dismissively. "It's not just the risk, it's..." Her face darkened. "I can't talk about it."

"I thought we were over that sort of thing."

"No I mean it's something else."

Kate put her hand on Max's shoulder. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

Max shook it off. "Not without hurting you."

"I can take it."

"No. No way. This isn't like the other times. It's better this way."

"W-what are you talking about?"

Max turned away. "Never mind. Just... forget it."

"No, don't you do that to me Max."

"Do what?"

"You just told me you have some awful hurtful secret, but you won't tell me what it is. How is that supposed to make me feel?"

"I didn't mean to. I-"

"You really think what you know is that much worse than what I could dream up?"

"No, I-"

"Then tell me!"

Max's eyes fell to the third base line. "I guess you have a right to know anyways. You gotta promise you won't tell a soul though. Not even the group."

"Of course."

"Jefferson... he didn't just take the photos for himself. He made lots of copies and sent them somewhere. They don't know where yet." Max looked to Kate for a response and saw her staring at something around the backstop, or maybe off past the trees behind it.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you. I just... You have to understand, I've been afraid to talk to you all week, then when I was in there I kept thinking about the rest of the group not knowing and I couldn't tell them."

Kate kept quiet for a good long while. The last vestiges of sunlight were finally gone, and in the darkness it was becoming hard even to read her expression.

"Are you okay?"

The only thing Max could tell for certain was that Kate was shivering.

"Say something."

Kate finally did.

"Shit!"

It was all Max could do to keep herself from laughing in shock.

"Yeah. Kate, uh, wow."

"It's not enough that all that happened, now I have to worry about showing up on some pervert's website."

"They said he didn't upload them, just made paper copies and-"

"Good thing there's no such thing as scanners or cameras right? I thought the video was bad, but then you drop this on me cause you're mad at me. I'm just trying to help you heal."

"I know; I didn't mean it like that. Are you okay?"

"No! I'm hurt and scared and angry and I have to keep it a big secret. Was that what you were trying to do? Show me how it feels?"

"I swear I wasn't! I just slipped up. It was stupid and I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me. You're good at that, right?"

"I haven't forgiven Jefferson. Or Nathan, or... I still hate them for what they did to me. Hope they burn in Hell!"

"I didn't think you could even _get_ angry."

"Why not? You think I'm some kind of magical forgiveness fairy that people can just walk all over and I'll never get upset about it?"

"No, I- I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Sometimes I don't think people really see me. Just the necklace and bible and that stupid Abstinence group that nobody ever came to. Even you do it too sometimes, acting like I'm this perfect angel with no feelings or thoughts of her own."

"You're right, and I'm sorry. Just, you've always been so steady. Like a rock to cling to, whenever I needed it. After a while I guess I forgot what you were like up on the roof. You have a right to get angry about this. And at me, for being an asshole and dropping it on you like that."

Kate seemed to finally accept Max's apology and lowered her voice. "I should probably save it for the people who really deserve it, though. You didn't take those photos, Max. You didn't send them... somewhere. If you hadn't told me I'm sure I'd still find out eventually."

Kate raised a hand to her face to wipe her eyes. "Actually, how did you find out?"

"Officer Berry stopped by on Sunday to let me know about Nathan's plea deal, and he just sort of let it slip out. He made me promise not to tell you, or anyone, 'cause they're still investigating it. Should've listened to him."

"That's awful of him."

"I was all mad about it, like how careless could he be, then I just basically do the same thing to you. And it's worse cause you're the one in the photos."

"Don't forget the other girls. It's going to make going to the group a bit uncomfortable. I think that's the hardest part. I can see why you felt awful about keeping it from me."

"You gonna go back to them?"

"I think I still need some time to level out. They'll understand. They really are my friends, you know. Just because I didn't meet them by chance in classes or bond over tea and homework..."

"Yeah, okay. Don't worry, I'm not jealous."

Kate stood and reached her hand out to Max to help her up. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yes. As long as I get somewhere warm soon."

"Oh god, I forgot you don't have a jacket. How about we stop by the cafeteria for something hot to drink?"

"That sounds perfect," Kate answered. "Even though the tea there is shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: Do you believe either of them when they say they didn't mean to? Or when they say they're sorry? Would either of them be justified?


	39. Break

"I have to admit, when you borrowed a school camera I was expecting you to use it as a camera, not a subject." Max was back in Mrs. Cameron's office again, and Mrs. Cameron was back to smiling at Max again.

"But these two sets do a great job of illustrating the point of the project, that changes in lighting, angles, and yes, even the film can have a drastic influence on the mood of the piece, even when the subject is similar."

_Duh._ Max had pretty much pulled out all the stops to make them that way, to the point where she was worried about being _too_ obvious. The DSLR got a harsh light, black background, and a hard focus from the camera she'd borrowed from Kate. The lighting for her Polaroid was softer, the secondhand backdrop sheet was just a touch off-white (Max tried not to think about whether it came from the factory that way), and of course she'd used Chloe's camera to photograph it since the overdue assignment didn't need 50 shots. That made the off-camera lighting a bit tricky, but she still had a few tricks up her sleeve.

"So you'll accept the ones of the school camera instead of the Tobanga? Even though I'm submitting them for the flash assignment too?"

"Yes, I think I'll allow that. It certainly makes for a better project when you pair it with the ones of your camera. I admit I'm impressed that you managed to slave the flash to a Polaroid, I didn't think they made any with hot shoes."

Max smiled slyly. "They didn't."

Mrs. Cameron picked out a pair of photos, one from each batch. Max wouldn't have chosen them on their own, but together they were the best in the project; the perfect contrast between the slick edgeless black and the soft grainy tan with an off-white matte. The flash hid just behind the DSLR in the first, giving the glossy camera an almost eclipse-like halo. The second was a simple 3/4, just a hair underexposed, with no special lighting beyond a jury-rigged ceiling bounce and a simple key light triggered optically.

"I was hoping to have a day before Christmas break where I showed off some of my favorite student photos, and I'm glad I have a chance to include some of your work. If you don't mind, that is?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine."

"Wonderful. How's your entry for the contest coming along?"

_Figures. She can't even give me a break for 30 seconds._ "I think I have a few ideas." Max answered with just as little confidence as she felt, but Mrs. Cameron didn't seem to pick up on it.

"Excellent."

Max hauled the first Pelican case onto the desk and swung it open. "The uh... the swivel on this one kinda broke while I was adjusting it." _'Adjusting', 'throwing it to the ground in a fit of rage', close enough_. "It's just a little crack, it still works, but-"

"Don't worry about it. It was probably caused by that janky quick release bolt anyways."

_I guess she's kind of right._ Max had to hide a smile at the thought.

But she'd been waiting for that ax to fall all day, and now that it barely scratched her, there must be something else coming. She wasn't normally superstitious, but it was Friday the 13th, and _something_ bad had to happen.

Mrs. Cameron continued as she looked over the equipment. "I've told Principal Lee the student loaners are overdue for replacement, but it sounds like the budget will be tight this year."

"Yeah, I heard."

"He's doing the best he can though, and we're lucky to have him. It took forever to find somebody with the credentials who was willing to move to this podunk town."

"Hey, I grew up here." Defending Arcadia Bay felt bizarrely backwards. _No way I'm gonna let some stranger bitch about it, though. That's my job._

"I thought you were from Seattle."

"Not originally. I moved away from here five years ago."

"Oh. Well I'm sorry, but it is pretty small. I have to drive half an hour to find a decent baptist church, and don't even get me started on the trip to Wal-Mart."

"There are shops here too you know." _Even if most of them kinda suck..._

Equipment signed back in finally, Max was preparing to leave when Mrs. Cameron interrupted her with one last question.

"Oh, while I have you in my office... I've been meaning to ask you how your portfolio was coming along."

The simplest answer was that it wasn't. A few applications were filled out and ready to submit, but for anything worth attending, the portfolio was essential, and all Max had so far were a few vague notions floating around in her head once in a while.

She thought about lying just as she had about the contest entry, but this would involve way more work than that, and Max wasn't even sure where to start.

"Umm..."

"You know the deadlines are coming up soon," the teacher reminded her. "Most of them have to be in by Christmas or New Years."

"Yeah, I know. Some of the ones I'm looking at have rolling admissions though." _She can read a whole lot from one 'um'._

Mrs. Cameron gave her a concerned look. "You know what _that_ means though. The later you apply, the worse your chances get. Do you need some help?"

"Yeah. I suppose I wouldn't mind it."

"Of course, I'd love to give you a hand. What do you need help with?"

Max could feel the disappointment even before she answered. "Uhh... starting?"

Mrs. Cameron sighed. "I'm not going to do this for you. You're an adult, you need to take responsibility for it. However, if you show up in my office on Monday with a box of photos I think I can point you in the right direction."

* * *

Victoria's door was ajar again, and there was still no Victoria inside. Max could see the empty bed and couch through the gap, and a quick knock and peek verified that it was still unoccupied.

Not like Max expected otherwise.

_Still at that fancy private clinic I guess_ , she thought as she opened her own door.

But she was wrong.

Victoria wasn't in her room because she was sitting on Max's couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter, and a bit of a break from the feels, but the next one should make up for it.


	40. Back

"Finally." Victoria looked up from her phone irritably. "Where the hell were you?"

"What?"

"You always come right back to your room after class, but I came at 4 and you weren't here."

"Okay, _wow_. Umm... I had to stop by Mrs. Cameron's office to return some stuff _what the hell are you doing here?_ "

"I'm copying your English notes for this week."

"Wha- Why do you even need to? Where were you all week?"

"I had the flu." Victoria put little effort into making it sound convincing.

"Must've been a hell of a flu to make you invisible for a week."

"I went home, smart-ass."

"Don't you live all the way in Seattle?"

"No, that's just where my parents' condo is. We have a house here too."

Max was starting to wonder how long Victoria would keep the charade up, but Victoria simply swerved right back to her original objective:

"Where are your notes?"

"Can't you get them from somebody else?"

"Courtney's not in our class, and Taylor never takes notes 'cause she's some kind of literal genius."

"They're not the only ones in our class. What about Hayden? Or-"

"Get out your damn notebook."

Max wondered why she was so insistent, and in a world where Max hadn't seen her bled out in the corner of a shower stall she would have told her to fuck off, but instead she pulled an anemic three-ring binder out of her bag and sat on her couch next to Victoria.

An entire week worth of Max's notes fit on two sides of a piece of composition paper. They were at best patchy and incomplete, and she filled in the gaps from memory as best she could while Victoria recorded it all in a small moleskine notebook.

"There was a quiz on Friday on _Mockingbird_ , just the plot, to make sure we read it." Max could have done better on it. She'd relied on her memory from the last English class, rather than read through it again, and there was no way it didn't show, with all the vague answers and forgotten names.

"Then Tuesday we talked about the historical context and stuff, and the symbols for adulthood and innocence."

Victoria glanced at the notes. "A whole class period and all you wrote down was the word 'Symbolism'?"

"I read it for class last year in Seattle so I didn't really bother. Plus it's all on SparkNotes."

Victoria sure could pack an impressive amount of scorn into one glare.

"Anyways Thursday was kind of derailed by a talk about race and prejudice and code switching, and... oh, did you know Hayden doesn't always talk like that? He was all like "yeah when I'm with my cousins I don' sound so proper" and he said it with a real... inner city accent. That's what code switching is, talking differently when you're around different groups of people, and Calpurnia does it a bunch in the book, like with the people from her church. He also complained about the whole white savior thing." _Shut up, Max._

"Then on Friday she started talking about the essay assignment, it's supposed to be six pages and..."

Victoria's heel brushed Max's thigh, and Max realized how close the two of them were sitting. Vic's legs poked out of a worryingly short skirt, covered only by nude hose now that she'd kicked off her stilettos.

"...and there was, um... you had to use MLA format for the citations, and uh... the topics were due today. Have you talked to Mrs. Hoida yet? I'm sure she'd be understanding."

"I wasn't feeling up to it."

"Did you at least read it?"

"Yeah. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"I read the SparkNotes summary."

"Then why the hell are you even here?"

Victoria's answer seemed to take substantial effort to voice: "It wasn't the flu." Her gaze remained fixed on the little notebook in her hands.

"I know."

"And you were right. About the vision thing."

"I know."

"What the hell are they?"

"They're... what could have happened."

"Could have?"

"If things had happened differently."

Victoria's eyes narrowed as she finally looked at Max. "What things?"

There were so many versions of the story floating around in Max's head. Each was carefully crafted to suit its audience: one for her parents, another for Kate, one she'd started preparing for the group just in case she ever felt like attending. Then there was the one she told everybody else, or _would_ at least, if she ever left her dorm room. It was becoming hard to keep them straight, but after all the times she'd pictured this conversation it was clear she'd need yet another.

"I know it sounds like some kind of delusional coping mechanism, but... I had a lot of visions of what would've happened if Chloe was still alive; if Nathan didn't shoot her. We were hanging out, and trying to figure out what happened to Rachel. And... there were other timelines, with other differences. The whole butterfly effect thing, one small change. I'm still not sure what changed in all of them, though."

There was a long pause before Victoria spoke again. "Has anyone else had them?"

Max hesitated, and that was enough of an answer for Victoria.

"Who?"

She hesitated again, which prompted another assumption.

"Figures. Not like you talk to people other than Kate anyways. What did she see?"

"Same thing you and me did. Her on the roof."

"Because of the video."

"It was because of a lot of things. Not just that. There was Nathan and Jefferson, and Mr. Madsen harassing her, and the people at her church who called her a harlot, and I should have supported her better, and-"

"Don't be an idiot. I'm not gonna let you try and blame yourself for it. It was all me."

"You didn't drug her."

"I might as well have. I was his friend."

"But you-"

"Stop it. Just stop."

Max weighed Victoria's guilt complex against whatever anger might result from trying to talk her out of it, and changed topics.

"What else have you seen?"

"Just the bunker, over and over again. Different every time though. First you were there. Then just me, but he said he killed Nathan. He showed me a photo of Dana in one of them. That was right before the football game."

"That's awful."

"No shit. The visions would be bad enough on their own, but now I have normal nightmares about it too."

"I just saw the Dark Room once, with you on the floor. Chloe and I figured out what happened to Rachel, but we didn't realize Jefferson was in on it too, so when we went for help..."

Victoria pulled a joint and a lighter out of her pocket, and, much to Max's horror, lit up right in the dorm room on the third trembling attempt. "I need this."

She ignored Max's speechlessness and took a deep drag.

"I kept telling myself I was going to do this sober. Fat chance."

"What if somebody-"

"Christ, Max, it's Oregon, nobody cares. I even have a scrip for it."

She held out the joint to Max, who stared at it for a few seconds before taking a draw of her own.

"I just used the last of what you gave me yesterday."

"I got more for you if you tell me what you saw."

 

"Lots of stuff from the week before the funeral. Talking with Chloe, and Kate jumping off the roof, and the-"

"She really jumped then?"

"I thought you saw it."

"I woke up just as she was leaning over the edge. Just soon enough that I could tell myself she might have chickened out. Not that I ever really believed that."

"She's alive in this timeline. That's what matters, right?"

Victoria clearly didn't buy that.

"What else did you see?"

"A lot of weird stuff, like snow in the middle of October, and a huge tornado headed right for the town."

"And? What else?"

"There was a timeline where I was in the Vortex club somehow. And it was really weird 'cause-"

"My tattoo! How'd you see it?"

Every time Max had fantasized about having this conversation with Victoria, that particular vision never came up. Maybe it was because it was an actual vision, different from the "visions" from the week that never happened. Maybe admitting she'd seen Victoria naked paled next to the thought of admitting she knew Victoria cut herself. Or maybe just because it involved seeing Victoria lying dead in the shower, and describing that to somebody who just got out of a psych ward seemed like a terrible idea.

But she'd tipped her hand after the football game, for better or worse, and there was no way to escape acknowledging it now.

"You were in the shower, and-"

Victoria smirked. "Did you like what you saw?"

"What? No! You-"

"Yeah right. You've been staring at my thighs for the last ten minutes, like you want to take a bite out of-"

"You were _dead_!"

"Oh. Fuck."

"There was a cut right across it, and you were all pale and not moving."

"Figures." Victoria tapped the end of the joint over a dirty mug. "Sometimes I'm surprised I haven't killed myself in _this_ reality."

"I'm not sure if it was suicide. There was a word on your door-"

The laugh from Victoria was the last thing Max expected. "Yep. I sure know how to make a dramatic exit, don't I. Spite the people who wouldn't accept me. Leave everyone guessing. Probably send Blackwell down the tubes after news gets out."

"But..."

"Seriously Max, it's an art school in Oregon. You actually thought there'd be a hate crime on campus? Half the student body is pretending to be bi just for the cred. Makes it hard on us actual lesbians, yeah?"

Max could feel Victoria watching her closely, waiting for a big reaction, and without the pot she probably would have provided one. Instead she took the joint from the table and drew deeply from it, then exhaled. "Yeah."

"I thought about it a lot. Just like that. Razor in the shower, graffiti, the works."

"Is that why you were gone? At some kinda mental health clinic?"

"Pretty much. Don't really want to talk about it."

"Are you better now at least?"

Victoria scoffed. "Just at hiding it."

"That can't be healthy."

"And I spose you've told your shrink all about your visions?" She hardly even bothered waiting for Max to answer. "Yeah, I thought so. I almost did though. I thought I was literally crazy and seeing shit until after the football game. Thanks for that by the way. Seriously.

"So I thought I'd just live with the nightmares. Karmic payback for the video and everything. Then last week I have another one, and he's talking about how he got away with killing you. He kept obsessing about capturing the exact moment you died, and then he did the same thing to me. I can still feel the needle going in." Her hand moved unconsciously, a single finger brushed the side of her neck. "Taylor took my razor blades so I just figured I'd drink myself to death and never see him again. I don't have to tell you how that turned out. If I didn't have some glimmer of hope that it was actual supernatural shit I'd probably still be in the psych ward telling the shrinks all about it."

"That's horrible. I'm so sorry, I should have reached out to-"

"Jesus Christ, you're still fucking blaming yourself. Stop it. The only person anyone should blame is me."

"No. Jefferson."

"I could probably blame myself for that too. If I hadn't ignored how far off the deep end Nathan was..."

Max could've gone along with that. It'd be hard to argue against with a straight face. But it felt like a good idea to try.

"You can't know how things would have turned out. I told you it's like the Butterfly Effect. Even tiny things can have effects you'd never guess in a million years. I know because I've seen it. A guy can't find his keys and... five years later the wrong person is arrested for murder."

"That something else you saw?"

"Yeah."

"Jeez. How come _you_ haven't ended up in the looney bin yet?"

"I've gotten pretty good at hiding it too. I might need hella therapy but I know I'm not _that_ kind of crazy. It's basically my worst nightmare, some psychiatrist hearing me talk about visions and locking me up forever as a schizophrenic."

"I don't blame you. It's... not fun. Really. Really awful. Plus the food sucked."

"I heard."

"Oh god, what did Taylor tell you."

"Not much I didn't already know. Just... I was freaking out all week thinking you were dead, so she told me she had someone take you to some clinic. Didn't say where though."

"I didn't tell her where."

"Why not? I'm sure she would have visited. She was worried. She cares about you."

"Figures."

Victoria took one last draw and pinched the last bit of the joint out.

"We'll talk more later. I can only take so much for now."

"But what about-"

"Here you go." Victoria fished a large baggie of weed out of her purse and shoved it into Max's hands. "I promise I'm not gonna kill myself, okay? But I got a ton of party planning and an entire week of school work that might do the job for me if I don't start right now."

"I thought you had your minions do all that for you."

"Hardly. If you want something done right..."

"...you gotta do it yourself?" Max finished.

Victoria picked her notebook off of the table and tucked it underneath her sweater. "No shit. Taylor can really write when she puts her mind to it, but she's been half-assing anything I make her do for months now. I still have Courtney do some of my chem, she hasn't screwed that up lately at least. But I get to do all the rest, so, you know... later." 

"Yeah, definitely."

Halfway out of the room, Victoria turned and dropped one last question. "Did you have any visions over Thanksgiving break?"

"Uh... No. Why, did you?"

"Nope," Victoria responded firmly and left the room, somehow back in her usual confident stride in spite of everything.

"Okaaaay," Max said to the door as it closed. 

_What the hell?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a little later than usual due to Alt-J concert tonight woo.
> 
> If you haven't already figured out where this is going, note updated tags.


	41. Escape

After a Saturday spent angsting over college applications and her conversation with Victoria, Sunday promised to be quieter. Max had added a few more notes to her timeline spreadsheet, and was almost caught up with all of the homework that was due on Monday when she heard someone knocking on her door.

Max opened the door and squealed quietly in excitement, not because of Kate standing outside, but because of what Kate was holding.

"What's Alice doing out of her cage?" Max asked as she ushered them inside.

"I won a bet with Alyssa, so this week she's cleaning her cage while I get to play with her. Do you want to hold her?"

It occurred to Max that Kate was trying to mend their friendship with bunny cuddles. She didn't even try to resist.

"Can I? Ohmygod she's so cute!"

Kate gave suggestions as she placed the bunny in Max's arms. "Careful! Make sure you support her back legs. Yeah, like that. Don't worry, she won't try to escape. If you lie down she'll just sit on your chest and snuggle for hours."

Max sat on the pile of blankets at the foot of the bed, and Kate sat on the mattress next to her. Alice pulsed in her arms with quick breaths and even quicker heartbeats, her ears twitched at the strange hands that held her, and her nose buried itself in Max's elbow.

Max was about to lie down and test Kate's suggestion when a question interrupted her bunny-fugue.

"Is that your entry?" Kate was pointing to her bedside stand.

"Wha?"

"For the contest."

Max wasn't even sure what Kate was talking about until she picked up Max's half-asleep selfie from the stand to admire it.

The only time Max had really looked at it was shortly after it was taken. She'd recoiled at the dopey expression and hadn't-even-rolled-out-of-bed-yet hair, and rushed to run a brush through it. But Kate's question prompted a more careful look, and it was immediately clear that there was more there.

The shot had a loose framing about it, cutting off a tiny bit of her hair, and half-including some of the hanging lights behind her, but the composition was perfect, as if she'd been following the two thirds rule right from a text book.

"What was the topic for it?" Max asked.

"New beginnings."

The two words of context gave her expression an unexpected depth. Without them she looked tired and vaguely hung-over. With them she saw a readiness to face the day in spite of that; the edge of her mouth curved upwards ever so slightly to hint that it might not be so bad after all. 

"Yeah, I think it will be."

The more she thought about it the more she liked it. The judges would never know that it was the first Polaroid she'd taken--not counting school projects of course--since the funeral. That would have to remain a private bonus.

"When was it from?"

"Last Sunday, I guess? The morning after the thrift shop thing."

"That was fun wasn't it."

"Yeah. I, uh..." Max struggled to remember Kate's purchases. "I liked those earrings you got."

"Thank you. I'm kind of jealous of your coat. It looks really good on you."

"Thanks." Max ran her hand gently across Alice's big black ears as she slowly lay down.

"Can you finally tell me what those sheets were for?"

"Oh. Those were backdrops for the lighting project." Max wasn't even sure why she'd been secretive about it, it wasn't like Kate was going to steal her idea.

"The one you had to borrow my camera for?"

"Yeah. It turned out pretty well actually. I think Mrs. Cameron is going to show some of it on Friday."

Kate looked back to the selfie. "I wish my room had such nice light in the mornings."

" _I_ don't. I was trying to sleep in." But maybe the shot was worth it.

"You know, we should do something in town. This afternoon maybe?"

"Like, what?"

"There's a nail salon on second street, and I was hoping to visit the store for more bunny food."

"Maybe." Max was probably overdue for a manicure at this point.

"I think we should."

"I dunno. Stuff's probably closed on Sunday. Not sure I'm in the mood for it anyways."

"Even if you're not at first, don't you think it would cheer you up? You were really happy with the movie night and everything."

"You missed the part where I broke down in tears in the middle of the winter wear aisle."

"I saw it. I think you and Dana handled it pretty well though. I'm not the only one who cares about you, you know."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who has the full story. I couldn't tell her everything. I couldn't even tell my _parents_ half of it."

"What could you tell them?"

"Just that I was in love with Chloe. Turns out they didn't know we never reunited, so..."

"How did that go?"

"Pretty good. Lots of tears." A smile touched her lips briefly. "Mostly from them." It was hard for Max to be too angsty with a bunny lying on her.

"It sounds like they really care about you."

"They do. I was terrified about going home for Thanksgiving 'cause I didn't think they'd believe me. After I finally broke down it felt comfortable there. I almost cried getting on the bus back to campus. Wished I could stay there forever."

"You could do that. Go back to Seattle."

"Yeah. Just one more week left before Christmas."

"No, I mean go back there and go on to college and never come back here."

"No way!" Max sat up quickly, leaving Alice to scurry indignantly back to her owner. "I need to finish school. Even if it's hard I don't want to end up... a dropout."

"I'm sure you could transfer back to your old school. You have friends there too, you told me all about them back when we first met."

"Do you _want_ me to leave?"

"I'd miss you an awful lot, but I'm not sure staying here is good for you. I don't know how you can walk past that bathroom every day and not fall apart."

"I can't just abandon you. And Victoria! She finally admitted she's had visions just like us. I know I can help her!"

"Okay, okay. It was just a thought. But I really think you should get off campus more often. I think it'll help."

"Maybe. I still think everything's gonna be closed now."

"It doesn't have to be today, there's other things we can do this week. I'm planning on Christmas shopping tomorrow, you could come with me for that. Or my friend Claire is out of college and she wanted to do lunch, we could meet her on Wednesday. Oh, and I'm going caroling with a bunch of people from church on Friday, I think you'd enjoy it."

Max couldn't help but notice there was no mention of things to do Thursday evening.

"Okay, I'll do something with you this week. Promise. But right now I have a ton of shit to work on."

"That's fine," Kate replied. "I think Alyssa should be done with the cage now."

"Guess I'll see you soon then."

"I'll hold you to that, Max."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is a little early due to time zones and the fact that I'm on vacation! I don't expect to be writing quite as much for the next two weeks or so, but I have enough buffer that you won't notice.


	42. Haunted

Max walked down the Blackwell hallway, the beginnings of a real portfolio slung under her arm. It hadn't come easily. She'd spent over an hour after class with Mrs. Cameron putting it together, and her photo wall had made many sacrifices for its sake. But now that it was started, the rest of the work on it didn't seem so insurmountable, and the college applications felt closer than ever to being done.

Unlike most of her assignments, she actually couldn't wait to work on it, there were more photos in her room to go through, boxes and walls full of her work that demanded to be dug through, now that she had a good theme going. She could almost put it together in her head. _I bet the one of the old sofas would fit perfectly in the second section..._

But as she neared the exit her train of thought was derailed by shouting in the main hallway.

"GET. OUT!"

Max couldn't identify the voice, but she could tell it was drenched in fury. As she rounded the corner she found it was coming from a slightly-built woman in a security uniform.

"That isn't some haunted house. A woman died in there. Have some respect."

A handful of middle schoolers shuffled toward the front doors, heads held low despite the fact that the woman yelling at them was hardly taller than they were.

They were coming out of the bathroom.

In an instant Max's back was against the wall, and slowly sliding downward. Breaths came rapidly but somehow she still felt suffocated.

Chloe was lying right there, on the dingy blue tile floor. It was cleaner now, but Max couldn't stop looking at the spot until the guard closed the bathroom door behind the last of the kids.

"This is completely unacceptable. This campus is private property, you've got no business here."

She herded the children toward the exit.

"I would have thought you'd have at least a little respect for the people who were hurt by this, Andy." 

She continued to scold them as the front doors closed with a thunk.

"Your parents will be hearing from me, Harriet." 

Students stood around and looked on. Warren glanced at Max and clutched his bookbag uneasily. Stella held a hand over her mouth. Courtney leaned over the Vortex Club table and smirked.

_"You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs."_

Some part of Max knew she needed to run, to get out of this hallway, but instead she just stared at the door to the bathroom, and sunk lower against the wall until her knees hid her face.

_Bang._

A crimson pool grew, ran down the cracks toward Max's hiding spot in the back, closer, closer; Nathan's panicked voice echoed, too big for the tiny room. And Max did nothing. She _had_ to do nothing. She _chose_ to do nothing, and there could be nothing worse than that.

"Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass would they?"

Buried nightmares bubbled to the surface, and she stared at Nathan's face as the gun went off, saw his anger turn to surprise, and felt the pain in her gut.

"Get that gun away from me, psycho-"

 _Bang_ , the noise reflected off the cold tile walls and surrounded her. Where there had been two voices shouting now there was only one.

And his hand was on her shoulder now; he loomed over her, sneering, laughing, but then there was another voice again.

"Honey?"

She swung her arm at it before the world came back into focus and she realized that the voice, and the hand, belonged to the security guard.

"It's okay, you're safe here. Just take a deep breath. I'm Mrs. Alvarez, campus safety. Are you Maxine?"

"Y- Yes?" Max didn't have much cause to trust the woman, but the touch had brought her back out into the hallway, and her words were gentle, and easy to focus on.

"Remember, you're safe. Let's get you out of here."

Mrs. Alvarez held out her hand to Max, and put the other one under Max's arm to gently lift her back to standing.

Max protested, "I'm okay. I'm fine!" Students formed a circle and gawked anyways.

"Come on." Her hand guided Max past them and on toward the front doors, but before Max could object they had taken an unexpected turn into the administrative office.

"Here, sweetie. Have a seat." Max was too numb to do anything but let herself be guided into one of the chairs in front of the secretary's desk. Mrs. Alvarez rested a hand on her shoulder again, and talked her through a few more deep breaths.

After a few minutes Max felt a little closer to normal, and the guard turned to Mrs. Evans and asked quietly, "Is Miss Gibson in today?"

"No, just Tuesdays and Fridays." The secretary eyed Max with concern. "She could talk to him instead."

"Okay." She misinterpreted Max's horror at the mention of the school therapist, and tried to offer reassurance as she closed the door. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. I'll be right back out." It missed the mark by far.

"Oh, you poor thing. You look frightful."

The front-facing camera on Max's phone confirmed that assessment. Her hair was all over, and her hand had rubbed a line of snot across her cheek. And of course her eyes were red and puffy. She hadn't even noticed she'd been crying.

"Can I get you some water?"

"No, I think I'm okay." She did accept a tissue though, when Mrs. Evans held the box out to her.

It was several minutes, spent in stiff silence broken only by a few sniffs, before the door to Dr. Leigh's office opened. Mrs. Alvarez gently guided Max in to sit at his desk, then closed the door behind her as she left.

"How are you feeling?"

She looked at him but didn't answer. _That chair again._

"Mary tells me you had a bit of trouble just now. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah." The bird statue was gone, and Max instead focused on an etched glass globe, affixed to some kind of wooden plaque that sat on the right side of the desk.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

_No._

He motioned to the award Max had chosen to distract herself with. "That's the Washington Foundation of Higher Ed. Outstanding Faculty Award for 1993. I imagine you were still in diapers then. I always wondered why they put a globe on it."

Max forced a chuckle, then offered a correction. "I was born in '95, actually."

"Right." He sighed. "After 30 years of teaching I finally accepted that the freshmen weren't getting younger, I was getting older. But I guess you _are_ younger than most of my students were."

She glanced back at the award before eyeing a painting, then the books behind him; anything else really.

"You don't have to talk to me about it. I know I'm just some old clueless white dude. Besides, you have Miss Gibson for that. I'm sure if you don't already have a meeting with her tomorrow she can squeeze you in her sched-"

"I'm not seeing her!" Max blurted out. _No way_.

A hint of surprise flickered across his normally-unfazed face. He leaned forward and studied her carefully for a moment before answering. "You do realize what you just had out there in the hallway."

"Yeah."

"Tell me."

"It was a flashback. Like from PTSD." She knew that much at least, thanks to last year's psychology class.

"How many times has this happened before today?"

"A few, but not as bad as this one." _Or as public._

"Mrs. Alvarez recognized it in a heartbeat. Lord knows she's seen more than her fair share of it. Even I noticed signs of it the first time we met. You understand Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder doesn't just go away on its own, yes?"

Max nodded meekly.

"It's a serious condition, it can have repercussions in every aspect of your life. Why do you think Blackwell hired a counselor? And why aren't you seeing her?"

"I did. We just... didn't click I guess."

"I was under the impression you were already meeting with her. I'd hate to have to make therapy a condition of your scholarship, but you need to be seeing _someone_ about this. Your mental health is important; getting help is nothing to be ashamed of."

 _"Someone"_ was her way out. A careful turn of phrase or two and she wouldn't even have to lie.

"I've _been_ seeing someone. Someone I'm actually okay talking with. She's helped me a lot." From the look of his face that might not be quite enough, but she realized she had one more point in her favor. "I'm also going to the group therapy with Kate and the other girls." Close enough to true that she could say it confidently.

He finally seemed to accept it, and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I'm sorry to hear you weren't comfortable with Miss Gibson. She's really very sweet, and she knows what she's doing. But choosing a therapist is very personal, so... I'm glad you've found someone who works for you. Next time you see her I trust you'll talk to her about coping strategies for flashbacks like this."

"Absolutely."

_Not the same thing as the nightmare, but I bet Kate can help with this too._

"Excellent. You're a smart student, and I'd hate for something like this to hold you back any longer. I've already heard from a few of your teachers that you've seemed distant, and had trouble with schoolwork. I understand it, it happens. I don't want to suggest we'll give you a pass on it, but we're willing to work with you to help you succeed, as long as you're meeting us halfway and going to therapy."

After a few more reassurances that yes, she was fine, Max managed to escape from his office and head back to her dorm room to collapse on the bed. Her phone was already buzzing with a half-dozen worried texts before she turned it off and lit up a joint. She'd answer them later. Maybe. 

_That was close._


	43. Attrition

"Amalgam fillings on 14-OD and 15-MO still secure, slight caries on 15 occlusal."

Dr. Kind--"Pronounced like 'grinned', not like 'find'" he always said as he showed off his perfect teeth--leaned over Max and dictated notes to the hygenist.

Even without the sore jaw she was due for a cleaning, but after a few days of respite she'd woken up Tuesday morning in such agony she couldn't drag herself to morning classes. The dentist in Seattle was already full for the Christmas break, so Dr. Kind, the same dentist who had cared for her baby teeth, was examining her sore molar and looking vaguely concerned.

"Substantial attrition on 18 and 19, check for bruxism."

There were many things that Max had been neglecting lately, but her toothbrush was not one of them. After some particularly painful fillings a few years ago, no matter how bad things got she still managed, usually twice a day, plus flossing. So whatever bruxism was, she was sure she didn't deserve it.

He finished poking at her gums and put down the sharp metal instrument. Finally. "Okay, bite down."

The wrinkles in his hands were more pronounced than she remembered, and they seemed more feeble as he set them on either side of her jaw and prodded, but unlike before, a poke below her left temple might as well have been a jab with a needle.

This, apparently, was enough for a diagnosis. He leaned back, and Max heard the _snap_ of exam gloves being removed.

"When you called with pain in your second molar I was expecting to have to take your wisdom teeth out, but-"

"I already had that."

"Yes, it's right in the chart they sent over." He pulled up a rolling chair and leaned forward, resting his arms on the back. She was a bit too old for the friendly posture to have the calming effect that it used to, though. "Have you been under a lot of stress lately?"

 _No kidding_. She tempered her response and wondered how he could tell. "I guess you could say that, yeah. School and stuff. Why?"

"We're seeing the start of some pretty worrying wear on the molar that's bothering you. Usually when we see that it means the patient has been grinding their teeth in their sleep. It wasn't in the x-rays we got from Seattle, so I'm thinking it's started in the last six months. Perhaps a recent traumatic event?"

 _He knows._ The name 'Maxine Caulfield' never appeared in the papers about the shooting--the school administration had at least made sure of that--but that wouldn't matter in a small town like this. Especially after Monday, word must have gotten around, from concerned faculty to a close friend in their Bridge meetings or something, to Dr. Kind's receptionist.

"I'm going to recommend you see someone about the root cause of this stress-"

_Great, even my dentist knows I need therapy._

"-and I'm also going to prescribe you a guard to wear at night to protect your molars from excessive wear."

She had flashbacks to years of miserable orthodontic headgear until he showed her a picture of one. It looked more like the retainer that Max was still technically supposed to be wearing. It was a struggle to even remember where that thing was--probably still in Seattle?--but Max's teeth hadn't seemed to mind its absence. Until now.

* * *

She checked the time on her phone and did a little mental math.

 _Shit, no way I'll catch the next bus even if I run. And the one after that means missing most of Algebra._ It'd be faster if I just walked. Fortunately the sun was out, and the wind relatively gentle as she buttoned up her coat and started the trek back to campus.

There was no need to get directions from her phone. Max knew this town well enough to head in the right direction without even thinking, and plotted her course back home as she passed between inflatable penguins and parked cars.

After the first block her hand left its pocket to undo the top button of her coat. By the end of the second the rest of the buttons were undone, and her hood was down. It was only as she turned the next corner that she realized her path would take her near the Price household. Not right in front of it, but close enough to see it if she looked down the street. Avoiding it would require a major detour. It'd be pretty pathetic too. _Nothing but good memories in that house, and I'm still afraid to look at it._

So she stayed the course. Fresh air and exercise tamped down the worst of her anxiety about seeing it, and thinking about the last few changes to her portfolio successfully distracted her until the half-blue house was just a few doors away.

It wasn't half-blue anymore.

The paint job that had been interrupted by William's accident and left perpetually unfinished was now covered with a light shade of green. 

 

A loud honk from behind reminded Max that she was standing in the middle of the street, and she scurried to the sidewalk and towards the newly-painted home.

 

The long-neglected flower beds were newly mulched and planted with pansies, and the lawn was edged and trimmed in a way that Max hadn't seen since William died.

The rusted out pickup was nowhere to be seen. That was no surprise; it was probably towed right from the Blackwell lot to the junkyard after Chloe died. But Joyce's little Aveo was also gone, replaced in the by a sporty red coupe that had no business sitting in the Price driveway.

It didn't make one bit of sense, the house suddenly looking so nice after such a tragedy, or the new car. And if David wasn't working at Blackwell anymore...

There were only two phone numbers she'd ever memorized as a kid: One for the house she was standing in front of, and the other for the Two Whales. She tapped the latter into her cell phone anxiously.

 

After a few rings, a perky woman's voice answered the phone. "Two Whales."

It wasn't Joyce. In fact, Max didn't recognize the voice at all. Most of what she remembered of the Two Whales was from five years ago, but so little had changed when she'd visited in the other timeline that the new voice was instantly worrying. "Can I talk to Joyce?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, she's not working here any more."

_So she's gone._

"What did you need to ask her? I might be able to help."

"What happened to her?"

"After all that awful business with her daughter she went back to South Carolina to live with her sister."

"Right. Okay. I'm sorry to bother you," Max managed to croak out.

The wreckage of her decision was right in front of her. There was some stranger in Chloe's room now, someone who had no clue who lived there for the past 19 years. The flag would be gone, and all the graffiti and the height chart covered with a fresh coat of paint. The window Max had climbed out of was framed by baby blue curtains now. Some couple was living their lives, maybe even starting a family, while Joyce buried her only child and left her wreck of a life behind.

And it was all because of Max, and the choice she'd made. _Without that she'd still be here_ , Max thought, forgetting for the moment that without that decision 'here' would be a field of rubble.

After a few minutes of staring there was nothing more to do, and she was starting to get chilly again. She wrapped the jacket back around herself and continued toward class, slowly, staring at the pavement.

 

It was a flyer, of all things, that snapped her out of it. Tucked under the corner of a trash can, an environmental plea. _Last time I saw one of those..._

Every person in this town that was still alive, every house still standing, owed it all to Chloe's sacrifice and they'd never know it. _I could be bitter about it and end up... like Chloe. Or just... keep walking._

She took one last look at the 'Save our Bay' flyer before trudging on towards Blackwell, smiling a little through dried tears.

_I already fucking did._

* * *

There were stares now, whenever Max actually attended class. Whispers too; she only caught a few but there was no chance that there weren't more when her back was turned. Aside from a few texts, which Max did her best to respond to reassuringly, nobody had tried to talk to her. But ever since her little scene in the hallway she felt almost as many eyes on her as she had after the funeral.

She didn't care. Her mind was on only one thing: Victoria.

After being mysteriously absent for a week, Victoria's return had thrown the Blackwell rumor mill into overdrive all weekend. The most popular theory was some kind of STD treatment, even though in real life that usually just meant taking a bottle of pills home from the doctor. A DUI was a strong contender until someone pointed out that she wasn't wearing an ankle monitor. Max's favorite was the Nathan's-lovechild-abortion theory, for sheer absurd salaciousness. She'd wondered a few times why Victoria didn't just tell the truth; it was nowhere near as bad as most of the rumors floating around. But it wasn't any of Max's business to say anything, and so she kept her mouth shut.

Besides, she had stolen the spotlight pretty effectively with her performance on Monday. 

_God we'd make such a fucked up pair._

She sat in Photography and fantasized about long, cathartic talks ending in tight, tearful embraces and... she did her best to stop herself before her imagination went any further than that. It didn't quite feel right, even after their mutual coming out, to want to do... _anything_ with Victoria other than help, like Kate had helped Max. Especially since no matter how much she opened up she was still... _Victoria_. At least most of the time. She still walked around confidently in spite of the rumors, still with that expression that suggested the rest of the world smelled a little funny. She still barked orders to her flying monkeys, and they still did her bidding, but everyone seemed to think it was only a matter of time before the a well-aimed bucket of water ended her reign for good.

Right now she was at her usual desk on the left, dutifully taking Mrs. Camerons's words down in her notebook and not looking at Max. And Max was not looking at her right back. Not looking at the way she crossed her legs as she faced the teacher, then re-crossed them the other way as she leaned back in her chair. Or the way her pen glided gently over the moleskine in her hand. And every once in a while she'd pull out a makeup mirror, and her fingers brushed her face gently and _Oh god stop staring_.

That was about all the contact they'd had since Victoria's return. A few knocks on Victoria's door had resulted only in Max standing outside it in the hall for an embarrassing amount of time. Trying to catch her at lunch or between classes was impossible to do discretely, surrounded as she was by Vortex Club members talking about the upcoming Christmas party. When it wasn't that, there were apparently plenty of teachers to suck up to.

She hadn't lied, at least, about being busy.

But after all that opening up on Friday she was as inaccessible as ever.

 _Can't even text her._ Her phone number wasn't on any of the dozen social media accounts, at least not without adding her as a friend, which was probably just as bad an idea as trying to approach her her in full view of her Vortex Club pals.

_Bet she loves this. Keeping me at arms length, in suspense, until she deigns to talk to me again. I wonder if-_

"Maxine?"

Hearing her own name snapped her focus to the teacher for the first time since class started.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to say a few words about your photos?"

Her two shots of the cameras were on the screen, displayed in front of the whole class, which was giggling nervously at her lack of attention. She'd only been occasionally aware of the student photos Mrs. Cameron was showing on it, and only really bothered to look when Kate and Victoria introduced their work. Now she had nothing prepared and it looked like she'd be paying the price for her distraction. Unless...

"Actually no. I think I'll let them stand on their own. Death of the Author and all that."

"Of course. Maxine is referring to a 1967 essay by French lit crit Roland Barthes, who argued that the author isn't the final authority--or even necessarily an authority at all--when it comes to interpretations of their own work. Certainly a work shouldn't _need_ that sort of explanation. You can see the contrast the moment you look at this, between the sleek black lines of the left photo, with the subject elevated slightly above the camera to give an unsettling feeling of power. On the right the lighting, the softer focus, and the grain all work together to give the shot a much cozier feel. All of this we can see without a single word from the photographer.

"But there are many ways to approach this kind of interpretation. On the other side of the spectrum we can use not just the author's words but also what we know about the author biographically to deepen our understanding of the work."

Someone--not Victoria but perhaps in the same general direction--faked a loud cough, with the word "hipster" in the middle.

_So clever._

Even Mrs. Cameron couldn't fail to notice it, and Max was helpless to stop the sermon that followed.

"People may ridicule particular techniques or styles because of their cultural associations, but it's best to just ignore it all. The only thing that really matters is what works best for you as an artist. 

"From these photos we can see a clear difference between two different approaches to photography. Max has done a fine job with both of them, but you can tell which style she's more comfortable working in. It's part of what makes her work her own." She turned to face Max specifically. "Not everyone likes every style, and you can't please everyone; you'll drive yourself crazy trying. Just do what's right by your own self, and don't let anyone make fun of you for it."

Max smiled outwardly. She couldn't help but imagine all of the mockery that would come from Mrs. Cameron's very... _teacher-ish_ defense, but... _whatever_.

Victoria checked her mascara again, not because there was any chance it was mussed, but out of habit. Or perhaps nerves?

_We've got bigger things to worry about._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recovering from jet lag, please excuse the lighter-than-usual proofreading.
> 
> I have known the pain of being a computer security expert watching 'hacking' in movies and TV shows, so I did my research and hopefully managed to put together a chapter that doesn't make dental hygenists cringe.


	44. Lithium

"For this chapter's final I'll be giving you a sample of an unknown carbonate salt, and you'll need to perform the three tests that we've covered to determine what alkali metal makes up the other half of the salt."

Max tried her best to pay attention to Mrs. Grant, but even the threat of a chemistry project before Christmas break couldn't distract from what was coming after class today. Thursday.

"You'll start with titration with the known solution to determine the molarity of your sample, followed by..."

This afternoon after class she'd be sitting in a room with total strangers, talking about how traumatized she was. Or not. She'd gone over it a dozen times, and then a score more, and each time through changed her mind back and forth.

_I can do this. It'll be fine._

Then: _They'll never believe me._

Her feelings toward Kate alternated as well. The anger wasn't entirely gone, and 'slipping up' and telling Kate about the investigation hadn't made her feel particularly better, just guilty. That was sometimes tempered by the nagging suspicion that tricking Max into the meeting hadn't been an accident. But she couldn't help but notice that the times she felt the most upset were also the times when her worst tendencies--self-pity, bitterness, antisocialness--made their appearance. Kate's pushing was probably for the best, like some kind of nasty-tasting medicine, or that dentist appointment.

"I'm making this really easy. It'll be either Sodium, Potassium, or Lithium in your carbonate sample. You have three tests, so even if you mess up one of them you should be able to get the right answer."

_Always do what the doctor tells you._ Dr. Leigh might not be _that_ kind of doctor, but he had a point, and the threat of losing her scholarship couldn't be ignored. So today she put all her spare attention into planning what she'd say when she stood in front of them.

"All the samples are under the second fume hood, with numbers on the sides. I'll be assigning them to you by number."

For an audience that wouldn't buy into time travel, details had to be adjusted, timelines altered, inconsistencies avoided or explained away. She'd decided on blurry memories of the dark room, revealed in camera flashes. No faces. If she had nightmares of Mark Jefferson leering over her, they could be explained just as she'd explained Kate's.

Focusing on the bathroom would be for the best. It would hardly require any changes at all, and it had been occupying her dreams more and more.

"Maxine, your sample is number 7." Max snapped back to attention just long enough to write the number down in her class notes, then went back to her _other_ notebook.

Deciding whether she knew Chloe was tough. Her parents had believed her without a second thought but here the risk was greater. One of the girls--the one with pink hair, whatever her name was--said she knew Rachel Amber. Some of them were from the same year. If any of them knew Chloe too, it'd be a minefield.

But the easiest stories to sell were the ones that felt closest to the truth as Max remembered it, so in the end she settled on the what Kate had first assumed: Chloe confronted Nathan in the bathroom with Max hiding in the back, under orders to listen and not intervene. _That would explain the guilt, and the running into my long-lost best friend just before..._

But every little correction complicated things, and by the time she was done the story spanned several pages of cryptic notes in her notebook, a long elaborate fiction that she'd have trouble reciting even at her most relaxed, and one likely to fall apart if they asked prying questions. And it'd only take one mistake or contradiction to ruin everything.

The bell rang, signaling the end of chemistry, and Max took the chance to pull out her phone.

**Max:** Do you want me to come to the group thing tonight?

**Kate:** You're always welcome to attend.

**Max:** That's not an answer.

**Kate:** I think it would help you.

**Max:** Neither is that.

**Kate:** I don't want to push you, but I do think you should give it a try. 

That was probably the least wishy-washy answer Kate would give her after last week's argument.

**Max:** Maybe. Can we talk over lunch?

* * *

She spotted Kate in the corner of the cafeteria that most students usually avoided, probably because it was lit with old recessed lights that gave it all the bright cheeriness of a 15th century dungeon. But it afforded them plenty of privacy for a sensitive conversation, and they sat with their backs to the walls.

"I haven't decided yet. Still thinking about it. Gotta get my story straight first, make sure it's safe." Max dipped the ham and grilled cheese in her tomato soup and took a bite.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Actually yeah. The girl with the pink hair?"

"Megan."

"Megan," Max repeated. The name seemed familiar somehow, maybe... _Shit, that letter in the Save William timeline._ "Did she know Chloe?"

Kate looked toward the rest of the cafeteria. "I told you, I have to be serious about the rules."

Max leaned over Kate's tray and made eye contact. "I'm not asking for fun. I can't do this without telling them how close I was to Chloe. But I'm pretty sure she had a friend named Megan in one of the other timelines, so... what if she knows we never met in this timeline. Then I'm fucked."

Kate paused to consider, then relented. "She's never mentioned her. Just Rachel. She doesn't talk much, but I think she would have said something if she knew them both. I'm not sure anyone's talked about Chloe at all, actually, other than what was in the news."

"Fine. What about other stuff they might know. Any of them have family in the police? Might have overheard stuff about the investigation?"

Kate sighed and glanced back towards Max. "I don't think so. Not everyone's talked about their families though." She took a big bite out of her pizza and put it back on her plate. "I've done my best, but I can't guarantee anything. Whatever you decide, I promise I'll support you though."

Max swallowed the second bite of her sandwich. "Wish I could say the same of Dr. Leigh."

"He's just doing what he thinks is best. And he'd be right, if not for... I'll admit it still feels weird saying 'time travel' but I don't doubt you for a second. So I'm willing to cover for you if you want me to."

"I appreciate that you'd lie for me, but I think I need all the help I can get."

"It's good to be able to admit that. I don't want to force you into it, but I think this is really important for you."

"Hey, are _you_ gonna be okay? After what I told you last week I mean."

"Don't worry about me, Max. I'll be fine. I'm not looking forward to sitting in the group and having to keep it from them, but I'll manage."

"I'm really sorry about it. I can't imagine how it must feel to know they're out there, have them hanging over your head."

"I've made my peace with that part at least. There's nothing I can do, I just have to trust that God won't give me anything I can't handle."

Max wondered where God was when they were on the roof in the other timeline, but kept the thought to herself.

Fortunately, Kate brightened and changed the subject.

"Hey, are you going caroling with me on Friday?"

"Oh, uh... I'm not really into that. Plus I don't know any of the songs."

"You promised me you'd do something off campus."

"I did! I had an appointment with Dr. Kind yesterday."

"The dentist?" Kate looked unimpressed. "I'm not sure that qualifies. Unless you had _fun_ there."

"Not exactly. He told me I'm grinding my teeth in my sleep because of stress."

"All the more reason to come along. Caroling always gets me in the holiday spirit!"

"I've never done it before though. Closest I've come is that one year I did sophomore choir."

"You'll do fine, don't worry. You don't even have to sing if you're not ready. Just enjoy the Christmas lights and fresh air."

Max "Maybe. I'll see how I feel tomorrow." Max took a third bite of grilled cheese, not even bothering to dip it in the soup.

"I don't want to force you, but you really need to stop avoiding things that might make you feel better."

Max sighed. "Like the group?"

"Well, yes but I'm almost more worried about how much time you spend in your room. It can't be healthy."

"I think I'm in there all the time _because_ I'm depressed, not the other way around. But sure, I'll go. When is it?"

"That's wonderful. It starts at four tonight, in my room just like last week."

"I meant the caroling?"

"Uh... same time tomorrow I guess? One of my church friends is going to be picking me up from the curb by the dorm."

"There's not going to be too much... _Jesus_ there, right?"

Kate finished the last bite of her pizza and sighed in slight annoyance. "Christmas is the celebration of His birth. But there won't be any big sermons, I promise. We usually just start and end with a silent prayer."

She picked up a napkin from her tray and dabbed the traces of pizza sauce around her mouth. "Sorry to run, but I have to meet with Mrs. Hoida before music class. I guess I'll see you in photography?"

"Yeah. See you then."

Kate slid out from behind the table and took her tray to the disposal counter leaving Max with her barely-eaten sandwich, alone except for the swarm of butterflies in her stomach, which would keep her company all afternoon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The assignment Mrs. Grant is describing is one I had in High School chemistry, a class the original writers seemingly never took. I still remember which sample I got, hence the chapter title.


	45. Megan, Tyra, Lucy, Max, Kelly, Lynn, and Kate

There was no assigned seating for the group therapy. Kate had assured Max of it several times, but as with any other group of high school girls, she figured there was some kind of order established, and it would be best not to disturb it. So she took the spot on the bed she'd been offered last Thursday, even though she and Kate were alone, and the couch and folding chairs empty.

At ten to four the girls started filtering in, each glanced at Max but sat down quietly in the same place they were the previous meeting, and this time Max had a better chance to look at them all.

Megan arrived first, her hair seemingly even pinker than it was last week. Her tall, slender build was hidden by baggy jeans, and she shed a heavy hoodie to reveal yet another ill-fitting black t-shirt, with white writing too small to make out from the other side of the room, unless Max wanted to be caught staring at her chest.

Lucy and Tyra entered together and sat on opposite sides of the couch. Lucy's ginger curls were up in a hairclip this time; one topped with a beautiful iridescent piece of glass. Same overalls and striped shirt though, and a beat-up old orange backpack Max swore she'd seen before, but not at the last meeting. Tyra was also dressed mostly like last time, with dark blue stretch pants topped with a loose white blouse and purple scarf, and a clutch with the letter 'G' all over it.

Lynn arrived next, in a Hillary-Clinton-style pantsuit, and gave Kate a quick recap of the parts of the last meeting she'd missed, while other girls chatted between each other or flicked through their phones quietly.

Kelly finally came in and sat next to Max on the bed to complete the group. She was tall, and with more time to observe Max could tell she had some kind of athletic physique, although what kind of sport she played was beyond Max's guess. Presumably something that allowed gauged lobes and a half dozen other piercings on her nose, lip, and eyebrows.

Once all the girls were in their places Kate assumed the air of calm authority that she'd used to invite Max in last time to kick off the meeting.

"Thank you all for coming again. I'm sorry I had to miss most of last Thursday, but I hope you'll understand."

The rest of the girls nodded, some of them glanced at Max but at least there was no further mention of their abrupt exits the previous week.

"Did anyone have something they wanted to share?" Kate asked.

The girls around the room shook their heads, and Max braced herself to attempt another introduction.

Thankfully Kate had something else in mind.

"Just before I had to leave last week Kelly said something that kind of struck me. I didn't have a chance to discuss it, but the police told her 'It's not like you were raped'. I was wondering if anyone else here has heard something like that."

Hands went up hesitantly around the room, until each girl except for Max and Lynn had confirmed it.

"James said those exact words, like twice," Lucy volunteered.

"That why he's your ex?" Lynn asked.

"In a way, yeah. He never seemed to get how much it hurt, he was always impatient and wondering why I wasn't over it already. At one point he said something like, 'you were fine for half a year before you knew, why can't you just be fine now?'"

"Oh, god. I have a great response for that though," Lynn offered. "My friend Jordan said basically the same thing, and I... well, to back up for a second, she'd just had a memorial dinner for her grandma the other week, and I was like 'what if you just found out that they'd cooked and served your dead grandma for that dinner.' That shut her up real fast."

"I bet!" Kelly cracked up, and the rest of the room joined her. "Holy shit, you don't pull punches."

Lucy's grin turned sheepish. "I wish I'd said something like that. I think I just made myself sound crazy."

"Don't worry about what he thinks," Kelly reassured her. "You're not crazy, he just couldn't handle dating an actual human being. As for me, I just told the cop I already survived being raped, or thinking I was anyways. This was something new, and I'm still figuring out how to deal with it."

"Yeah," Lynn jumped in. "I mean, the newspapers made a big point out of the fact that there wasn't any actual sexual contact, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. Like, on one hand I don't want everyone I tell to assume it happened, and have to explain it all, but on the other hand it makes people kind of minimize it. I don't feel much better that he 'just' drugged and photographed me."

Kate finally shared. "I do actually. What he did was bad enough, but if he... did something physical I don't think I could handle it."

"I remember him sticking the needle in." Megan's interjection was unexpected, her voice a bit hollow. "That was 'physical' enough."

Kate looked at Megan uncomfortably until Tyra jumped to her defense. "She means 'sexual'. She just don't wanna to say it."

Kelly leaned against the pile of pillows by Kate's headboard. "I think there was still a sexual component to it though. Like he was using us to make his own porn. Even if he didn't take our clothes off there's this... invasive male gaze sort of thing, like he's using our bodies and fetishizing how helpless we are to stop it. I mean, people keep saying that it's not about sex, it's about power, and this is, like, exacly that."

"Yeah," Lynn agreed. "I mean, I do my best to not let it have power over me. I try to-"

"That's bullshit!" Tyra interrupted. "Am I 'letting' him have power when I have nightmares about that room? Or when I feel my blood pressure go up every time I hear a camera shutter? You make it sound like we're _choosing_ this shit."

"Right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I just..." Lynn paused a moment to consider. "I feel like having a positive outlook is really important. At least, it is for me."

"I get that," Megan chimed in. "But sometimes being all positive feels kind of delusional. Like, losing Rachel really hit me, hard. Some days I can't even _pretend_ I'm okay."

"I know what that's like," Kelly agreed. "It took me almost a year to feel like things were back to normal, and even then there were some bad days. And I still have trouble with intimacy sometimes, three years later. My fiancée is great about it, but it's hard on us both."

Lucy sighed. "After I found out, anything intimate felt awful and wrong for weeks, and I couldn't have sex for two months. And even then I really wasn't in the mood."

"Yeah, it really killed my sex drive too," Tyra said. "Went from twice a day to basically nothing."

Lynn raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were single?"

"Yeah. Don't mean I couldn't take care of myself. Now I prolly got cobwebs up there."

Amidst the light laughter Max caught Kate's eye and they shared a look of discomfort; Kate presumably at the sex talk and Max at the fact that she felt like a creeper listening to all of this. She finally screwed up whatever courage she could spare and made one last attempt at introduction before the discussion got any more frank.

"I feel kind of bad. You're all sharing such personal stuff and I'm just sitting here."

"I told you, it's okay if you just want to listen for a bit," Kate reassured her. "Nobody's forced to share anything. They do it because it can help everyone, including themselves."

"Yeah, but I wanna at least introduce myself. Maybe I'll even make it to the end this time."

She inched to the edge of the mattress, draped her legs over the side, and leaned forward.

"My name is Max. You already know that, I guess, but..." She shook her head and prepared to start again.

"You don't have to talk so soon if you're not comfortable," Lucy said.

"No, I'm fine, I need to do this. I'm here... well I guess you've guessed why I'm here too, because Jefferson... drugged me.

"But that's not what messes me up the worst. I saw the shooting." She looked up from the floor just long enough to see that all eyes were still on her. "I was in the bathroom when Nathan barged in and I hid in the back and I heard him arguing with Chloe and then-" _Bang._

Just like that, drawing breath was difficult, and keeping the tile floor out of her mind even more so. After her little breakdown on Monday she'd felt raw, teetering on the brink, like her psyche was itching for a repeat. Her browser history had been filled with searches on PTSD, and how to stop flashbacks, and she was now discovering that the advice that seemed so easy on her laptop screen was anything but.

 _It's just a flashback. I'm safe._ Even if she didn't entirely believe the second part, surrounded as she was by people whom she was about to tell a long and delicate series of half-lies.

 _It's just a flashback._ She focused on keeping her eyes open and relaxing her hands, leaving behind a series of deep fingernail-shaped dents in the skin of her palm.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kate asked.

"I don't know, I... Shit. I thought I could get through this but nope. I'm just all kinds of fucked in the head and I kept telling myself that it wasn't so bad and I didn't need to be here but I can't even talk about it without... _this_." She gestured to herself broadly.

"You're doing fine." The encouragement came from Lucy, who had gotten up from the couch, and seemed to be holding herself back from hugging Max. "This is the hardest part, and you're really brave to say all that so soon."

"Thanks, uh... Lucy?" 

"Yeah."

"Sorry. I'm kinda bad with names." That much was true, and if all she had to go on was their brief introductions last week she wouldn't have remembered a single one, but this time Max was playing dumb, just a little. She wasn't sure if the group would be bothered that Kate had gone over their names before the meeting, but best not risk it.

The blonde next to Kate spoke up. "That's okay. It's a lot to take in. I'm Lynn by the way."

"Okay, Lynn. And you're Lucy. And... Megan? Tyra? And Kelly." Each girl nodded in turn.

"We could talk about something else for a bit," Kate offered. "Let you get more comfortable."

"Yeah," Max answered. "I'd like that."

"Wanna hold Alice?" Lynn offered.

"What?"

"She makes a great therapy rabbit."

Max smiled in spite of the darker light that was suddenly cast on Kate's weekend visit.

"Just keep her away from Tyra; she's allergic."

She only barely had a handle on herself as she sat down with bunny in hand. The other girls were having some conversation about their families and their reactions, and Max paid as much attention as she could with a bunny on her lap. Which was to say, not very much, but a lot of it was comfortingly familiar anyways, moments and feelings that until now Max had thought unique to herself. The therapy and medications she was less well-acquainted with, and Max got the feeling that her discussions with Kate were a poor substitute.

Before she knew it two hours had passed, and Kelly was getting up from her spot on the bed and stretching.

"Sorry gals, but I'd better be on my way now. I got almost two hours of driving and I still have the first draft of my senior thesis due before tomorrow."

There was grumbling, but Kate put on her group leader hat and stood up to conclude the meeting.

"Thank you all for coming, it's been wonderful. I wish you all the best of health and happiness, and a very merry Christmas," Kate eyed Kelly and added, "or whatever holiday you might celebrate." 

Girls filed out of the room, with sad goodbyes and a few hugs as each departed. Finally it was just Kate and Max left, and they shared their own hug before bidding each other goodbye.

"What did you think?"

"It was hard, but... I think I'll be back next week."

"Next week is the holidays, Max. We don't meet again 'til January."

"Oh. Right." Max broke off the hug gently, and half-smiled. "I'm actually a little disappointed now."

"Well, you're always free to call me again if you need it. You could even call if you don't need it, just to talk."

"That does sound nice."

Out the door and headed back to her own room, Max was stopped by a voice from behind.

"Hey."

Max saw the pink hair before the rest of Megan; a bright firey beacon in the darkness of the hallway.

"Hi."

"I'm sorry."

It had been a while since Max had heard someone say that.

"Oh, uh... thanks." From up close she could finally read the t-shirt, which said "I AM THE HIGGS BOSON" in block capitals. _Whatever that is_.

Megan leaned against the wall next to Kate's door, and folded her arms uncomfortably. "I keep thinking about the last time I saw Rachel. That one big party in the warehouse by the docks. Did you, uh, know her?"

"I never met her, sorry. I grew up here, but I lived in Seattle for the last five years."

"Oh."

"Did you know Chloe?" It took effort to not sound overly interested in the answer.

"Not really. I saw her a few times, but mostly just because she followed Rachel everywhere. Honestly I didn't like her all that much. Thought she was too much of a downer." Megan chuckled darkly. "Now I know what it feels like. Doesn't that just figure."

"She could be pretty rough. If we hadn't been best friends before I moved away I doubt I would've even bothered to talk to her now. But we did talk, a lot. And that just made it harder."

Megan glanced at one of the rooms at the other end of the hallway. "Funny how she was right. She was _so sure_ something bad happened to Rachel--obsessed more like--and we all just sort of... you know that thing people do when there's a really drunk guy in the room, and everyone just kind of inches away? It was like that, but all the time. And then she just goes off on her own and solves the whole thing."

"She wasn't totally al-"

The door across from Max's opened, and Victoria walked past the two of them. It was odd seeing her without makeup and a perfectly-matching outfit, and her hair was mussed in a way that Max had never witnessed before. The thin fabric of her long blue nightgown-- _because of course she has a nightgown_ \--failed to hide the fact that there was probably nothing on underneath it, leaving a bit less than usual to the imagination. Her expression was fixed somewhere between annoyance and exhaustion, and she only met Max's gaze for a fleeting moment before disappearing into the showers.

Max wasn't sure what to make of that, but the interruption at least reminded her that the hallway didn't provide much privacy.

"We could go into my room if you wanted to talk more." She smiled weakly.

"No. Uh, sorry I got, like, three websites to finish and a project for Software Engineering 102. I just wanted to say, you know..."

For some reason the fact that Megan was in college for some kind of computer programming came as a disorienting surprise. "Oh uh. Yeah. Hope you have a nice holiday."

"You too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a complicated chapter to write, with so many different voices it ended up taking a lot of effort to keep them consistent, but I think I managed. The result is perhaps not the healthiest group dynamic, with a few voices dominating the conversation and others being ignored or talked over, but without a professional counselor there will be issues like that.


	46. Sing

The last few precious minutes of daylight were already fading, hardly a half hour after the last class of the year ended on Friday, and the chilly winter wind had started in earnest. If Max had a choice, she'd be spending the time with a cup of hot chocolate in her dorm room, curled up with her laptop under a pile of blankets. Instead, Kate had successfully guilted Max into joining her for this strange religious ritual called Christmas Caroling.

Only three doors down the block and Max had already gotten separated from Kate, who smiled at her occasionally from the other side of the crowd as children shouted and ran around the edges in between stops. She'd assumed that her violently colorful jacket would stand out in the group, but the people in between them were decked out with bright hats, mittens, and scarves, and even a few overly-festive holiday sweaters. Other than Kate, she knew exactly zero of them, and while they seemed friendly enough amongst themselves none of them looked too closely at Max. Which suited her just fine.

It was a small group of about thirty, slowly shuffling down the block and visiting the homes that had their porch light on. Each house got a song or two, plus the usual fifteen second rendition of 'We Wish you a Merry Christmas' for a finale, which was going to get old real quick. Max looked down the street and saw an awful lot of houses with porch lights on.

 _Hey, it's the middle of December. Let's invent a tradition that involves spending hours standing around outside,_ Max thought as she pulled the coat tighter around herself. The forecast had called for chances of snow for the last few days, and unlike last time she was looking forward to seeing it turn the contours of Arcadia Bay white. It was cold enough for it finally, but so far all she'd seen so far was a flurry or two.

Having never gone caroling before, Max was surprised to find that she already knew most of the songs, absorbed through years of hearing them as background music on her parents' radio. But the melodies she'd learned were apparently the Soprano part, and she was at best an Alto. The only thing that saved her was that she could sort of read sheet music.

That plus a layer of winter underwear underneath her warmest pair of jeans, and her jacket, which she still loved even though some kid had just made a joke about it that she didn't get, for the second time tonight.

She finally worked her way to Kate's part of the crowd and asked about it. "Why do the kids keep pointing at my coat and calling me Joseph?"

"Joseph? I'm not sure... It could-" Kate interrupted herself with a bright laugh. "It's a bible story! About a boy with a coat of many colors, and it makes his brothers so jealous they sell him into slavery. I'll have to tell you it sometime."

"Oh. Sure." _That sounds like "fun". Maybe I'll sit through it if it means getting the jokes people keep making. Meanwhile... just smile and nod._

The group fit as many as they could onto the next porch, spilling off onto the sidewalk, and started on 'Good King Wenceslas' 

When the last line of 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' ended Kate struck up conversation again. "I liked your photos in class. I bet it was super-hard to get the one on the left."

"A bit, yeah."

"A bit? I'm still trying to figure out how you got your camera to take a photo of itself without you touching it."

Max broke out in laughter. "I have two of them!"

"Oh." Kate's face flushed red. "Of course you do."

"It was still tricky though, 'cause neither of them support off-camera flash and I didn't want too much on-axis light. But I couldn't tape over it 'cause the other flashes were triggered optically. Had to use a makeup mirror to aim the flash towards the ceiling."

Their conversation was interrupted again by 'Silent Night' and 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen', which mostly reminded Max of the one time the Trans-Siberian Orchestra was in town and Jake got tickets.

After the song it took Max a second to remember the topic they were on.

"I really liked your second photo. I thought it was pretty neat doing a party as something you're not comfortable with."

"I thought it was a little obvious, but Mrs. Cameron loved it. She kept talking about how brave I was to go there and face my fears. I took my own bottle of water though."

"I totally don't blame you. Even _I_ 'd be a bit paranoid going to a party now. I don't know how Dana does it."

"Honestly I don't think that was my best photo of the year though. I got a really beautiful one of my mother over Thanksgiving, when she was rolling out pie dough, covered in flour, with her sleeves pushed all the way up."

"I'd love to see it."

"Of course. It's not on my phone, I'll have to email it to you later."

They found a place at the back of the crowd as it assembled around the door of the next house, waiting for the door to open. "What did you think of Victoria's photo?" Max asked. 

"Eh. It wasn't that great. I mean it was a pretty landscape, but it wasn't exactly lovingly captured, and there was that ugly building in the background."

"Yeah, I couldn't even figure out which assignment she took it for. Couldn't tell if it was something she's comfortable or uncomfortable with. Or a new beginning. Which reminds me, what was your contest entry?" 

"Actually the first one _was_ my contest entry."

"The one with the church doors?"

Kate's response was preempted by the beginning of a carol Max didn't recognize, but Kate flipped to the right page quickly and handed it to Max. _'Ding Dong Merrily on High'? Who writes this shit?_

Light displays up and down the street woke up as they sang, triggered by timers or light sensors as the dusk receded. Strands of colored lights appeared along eaves and fences, and reindeer and snowmen flickered to life on lawns and roofs as they walked past.

All the Christmas decorations over the past few weeks hadn't gotten Max into the mood for the season, but now, with the street aglow, the cold was not so bad, almost welcome even. _Still no snow_.

"Are you done with your Christmas shopping yet?" Kate asked as they followed the pack towards the next house.

"Not even close. I've barely started."

"You know there are only four days left."

"Shit, you're right."

"You said a cuss!" The kid's voice came from behind and startled them both. "Telling!" An 8-year-old girl in a purple coat and clownfish knit hat sped past them, off to keep the sidewalks safe for sensitive ears.

"Oh god. I mean, uh... _shoot_? I didn't just get us kicked out did I?"

"That's Lisa. Her mom won't make a big fuss of it. But maybe be a bit more careful here?"

"Right. Sorry. I'm not used to having to watch my mouth like that. I mean, most of the Blackwell teachers don't even care anymore, as long as you're not swearing _at_ someone."

After 'Joy to the World' and 'Away in a Manger', which Max struggled through the Soprano parts for because her hands were too cold to hold Kate's borrowed hymnal much longer, the clownfish beanie popped out from between two gray grown-up jackets and Lisa spoke loudly at Max.

"Mom says you shouldn't've said that."

Max put on her best sweetly apologetic face. "She's right. I shouldn't ha-"

Before Max was even done saying it the girl ran away, back through the group to rejoin the other kids.

"I told you." Kate laughed. "Do you at least know what you're getting everyone?"

"Not a clue. I'm kind of betting on two-day shipping. How about you?"

"I still need to get a few things for my cousins, but I already have gifts for my parents and sisters. I also have this for you."

Kate pulled an envelope out from inside her jacket.

Max hid her panic well and vowed to add Kate to her shopping list, even if it was just a gift card. "Oh, thank you so much!"

She was about to tuck it in her own jacket when Kate objected.

"Open it!"

"Oh. Okay." Max slid a finger under the flap and tore the top of the envelope as the group started the next hymn.

"It Came Upon a Midnight Clear..."

The envelope contained a sheet of paper that unfolded to reveal a beautiful drawing of their butterfly. A few business cards fell out of the folds, heavy cardstock with the vivid lines of the drawing duplicated on them in miniature, the words "Order of the Blue Butterfly" in Kate's perfect script below.

_"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men_

_From heavens all gracious King!"_

Kate did her best to keep singing as Max enveloped her in a tight hug, but soon gave up and hugged her back. 

_"The world in solemn stillness lay_

_To hear the angels sing."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this sounds like a rose-tinted chapter about Christmas caroling it's probably because I started writing it in the middle of July, in 90 degree weather.
> 
> Next chapter comes with a big change in scenery. Our last visit to Seattle was only a few chapters long, but this time Max gets two whole weeks of holiday break...


	47. Texts

All of Max's Seattle friends had apparently gotten out of school the same time she had, and the barrage of texts started even before she got off of the train from Portland.

**Fernando:** Hey Maximum Caulfield

**Fernando:** We need to catch up

**Fernando:** Unless ur too good for us now with your fancy private school and all

**Max:** Of course not!

**Fernando:** So when are we meeting up?

**Fernando:** Me and Alicia are gonna be at church on Sunday

Max read the messages and smiled. "Church" wasn't an actual church, but their joke nickname for a local coffee dive they visited almost every week for the past two summers. The exact origins of the name were long forgotten, but it probably had something to do with the fact that they always met on Sundays around noon. Max didn't have much basis for comparison, but Alicia and Jake swore it was way better than a 'real' church.

**Fernando:** You need to tell me all about Blackwell

**Fernando:** Cant wait to see you again!

She'd had her choice of seats in Portland, and of course she opted for one by the window. Pine trees sped past as she composed a response. Thanksgiving had been short enough that there'd been no great pressure to hang out, but there was no avoiding them this time.

**Max:** Sure, as long as my parents don't have anything planned already.

**Fernando:** Dont disappoint me Maximus

**Max:** I said 'yes'

**Fernando:** I know you. You said yes with enough wiggle room to skip if you dont feel like it

**Fernando:** Dont you dare 

Having friends who knew her so well was wonderful, but had a few downsides. Like _that_.

**Max:** Fine, I promise I'll be there.

**Fernando:** Excellent. Did you see my fb message the other week?

**Max:** Yeah. Sorry I didn't answer it, there's been a bunch of stuff though.

**Max:** It's kind of a long story.

That long, sad, story would be a hell of a thing to drop over coffee with no warning, and after a few minutes of searching the news she forwarded him a brief article on the mess that was Blackwell Academy, one that didn't mention a student hiding in the back of the bathroom during the shooting. He and Alicia would get an abridged version of her part in it, because she could only handle so much of their pity.

After a few nerve-wracking minutes her phone chimed, and she opened the text message right away.

**Fernando:** Holy shit thats fucked up

**Max:** Yeah. I knew the girl who got shot so it's been a bit rough

**Fernando:** I remember her, you talked about her a lot when you first moved here

**Fernando:** Im so sorry

**Max:** Didn't want to spring that on you with no warning over coffee

_Or I just don't want to cry in public._

A text message from Alicia--the first one in almost four months--popped up. At least it saved her from having to mention it first.

**Alicia:** I'm so sorry!!!

**Alicia:** I wish you'd told me!

Max put her phone down on the tray table and sighed. They were doing exactly what Max didn't want: making it a big deal. _Even if it is a big deal, can't I pretend it didn't happen, at least for a little while?_ But after a few seconds she picked the phone back up and did her best to put Alicia at ease.

**Max:** It's been rough but I've been hanging in there

**Max:** How've you and Ferdie been?

**Alicia:** Not bad.

**Alicia:** I mean there's been a bit of drama but nothing compared to that.

**Alicia:** How are you handling it?

**Max:** Not too badly

**Max:** I miss her a lot, and it hurt extra to lose her just after we reunited

**Max:** But I'm making it

**Max:** How about you guys?

After a few more tries she got her friends to discuss something other than the news and trauma from Blackwell, and it felt strange how much their lives had gone on without her. Ferdie was finally in charge of lights for the school musical, Hallie was still doing props, and Alicia actually got a speaking part this time. Without Max they'd just had to press-gang someone else into working the curtains.

A few more miles down the line she heard from yet another friend.

**Unknown:** Back in Seattle, where the shit are you?

That number wasn't in her phone, but according to Facebook Kristen had changed numbers recently, and with the Seattle area code and oddly-placed obscenity there was no way it was anybody else. 

**Max:** I'm on the train home right now. Won't arrive till 1.

**Unknown:** Want to do lunch around King's Street?

The train station was in the heart of Chinatown, meaning probably some kind of Asian for lunch. Not usually Kristen's first choice for lunch, nor Max's, but maybe there was something new in the area.

**Max:** My dad was gonna to pick me up, but I could tell him to come later.

**Max:** Did you have a specific spot in mind?

**Unknown:** How does Takeshi's Noodles sound?

**Max:** I'm game if you are.

**Unknown:** Don't worry about parents

**Unknown:** I'll drive you home

**Unknown:** Where's your house?

**Max:** I'll just let dad know I have a ride, no problem

Halfway through adding the number to Kristen's address book entry Max read the last few messages and backtracked. _Kristen knows where I live. And she can't drive anyways. So who the hell is this?_ But Max was much too deep in the conversation to ask, so she decided to keep going and hope the other person dropped a clue.

**Max:** I live by gas works.

**Unknown:** Ok I'll meet you at the terminal

**Unknown:** Nice neighborhood

**Unknown:** Shocked your parents can afford it

_Oh._

**Add to Contacts**

**Name: Victoria**

**Save**

_And now I'm stuck having Chinese with her. Wonderful._ As much as she'd wanted to talk to Victoria, this was not at all what she'd had in mind.

**Max:** Haven't gotten to talk to you much lately. What's been up?

Max's text was still vague, just in case she was wrong, but needn't have bothered.

**Victoria:** I told you I had tons of homework to do

**Victoria:** And a zillion other things

**Victoria:** Like planning the entire vortex Christmas party

**Victoria:** Which you didn't even go to

**Max:** Was I even invited?

**Victoria:** Of course you were

**Victoria:** I made sure you got the email

**Max:** I thought everyone got those

**Victoria:** Yeah, but I made sure you did

**Max:** I'm not exactly a party person

**Victoria:** It was a shitload of fun

**Victoria:** Whatever, your loss

The scenery was slowly changing as Seattle drew nearer, from the gorgeous Oregon trees and mountains to the ugly backsides of stores that didn't care what they looked like to train passengers, then to factories built at a time when being near the train tracks meant something, now all deserted and covered in graffiti.

Max still didn't know the number for the person she'd _hoped_ to have lunch with, so she opened the conversation with Fernando again.

**Max:** Hey do you have the new number for Kristen?

**Fernando:** Nope

**Fernando:** Sorry

**Fernando:** You should ask Alicia

**Max:** What?

**Fernando:** Long story

**Fernando:** Too long for texts

**Fernando:** TLDR Alicia was right things are awkward

Alicia was a bit more forthcoming.

**Max:** Do you have Kristen's new number?

**Max:** Ferdie doesn't for some reason

**Alicia:** Sure, it's 510-555-9339

**Alicia:** OMG you missed that drama didn't you

**Max:** Apparently

**Alicia:** I told him it'd end in tears

**Max:** Oh no!

**Alicia:** TBF there hasn't been any actual crying, just a lot of awkward avoiding and passive-agressive posts on Instagram

**Alicia:** Their thing was actually going well until they had to start applying to college

**Alicia:** Near as I can tell Ferdie said something about keeping it going if they ended up in the same city and Kris took it as too clingy and broke it off

**Max:** Cereal?

**Alicia:** Yeah, she's all like, gotta spread my wings and she didn't even graduate yet

Max's phone chimed with another text from Victoria. The juicy details of her friends' love lives could wait til Sunday.

**Victoria:** Which train are you on?

**Max:** Cascades from Portland. I don't remember the number

**Max:** It should arrive at 1:06

**Victoria:** Whatever, I'll figure it out

The time on Max's phone was 12:20, meaning just enough time for an episode of something before Seattle. Before _Victoria_.

She gazed anxiously at her phone until the screen turned off, and her disheveled reflection stared back at her. _Maybe I should freshen up a little too._

Hair was easy, and the brush was right at the top of the pile of clothing in her suitcase, but with her makeup mirror sitting on her Blackwell dresser next to her old Polariod she was forced to use the phone's front camera--and a few precious remaining minutes of its battery life--to apply eyeshadow. The improvised mirror wasn't ideal, and her hands lurched this way and that as the train rounded sharper and sharper corners nearing the city, but the result was passable, and by the end she felt closer to human than she'd been in quite a while. _Hopefully good enough for Victoria._

Then, after a few minutes of browsing Netflix and trying not to stress about lunch, she just picked some random thing and hit play. Not like she could pay attention anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins our Seattle arc. I've added a few tags for some of the characters we'll be seeing in the next few chapters. Kristen and Fernando were such peripheral characters that they didn't even get last names, so I had plenty of creative freedom to envision them as I saw fit.
> 
> In other news, I checked the stats earlier this week and Lights had _exactly_ 5000 views, 250 Kudos, 80 subscriptions, and 40 bookmarks (and as a bonus, all my works together had exactly 6000 total hits). That's pretty awesome, and not just because of all the round numbers. I wanted to say thanks to all of my readers for following and commenting!


	48. Translation

Victoria leaned against the glass walls of the King Street Station skywalk and looked down on the crowded platform again. Piles of people bustled around between the trains, rearranging suitcases, corralling children, hurrying to make that next appointment. No sign of Max so far, but this was the only Amtrak Cascades train from Portland arriving at 1PM, so she had to be on it.

She shivered, and wished she'd worn something warmer than nylons and mini-skirt, no matter how much Max might enjoy the view. The sides of the skyway kept out the worst of the wind at least, and Mom's houndstooth jacket did well enough with the rest, but she still couldn't wait to be inside again, or at least walking.

Finally, way in the back of the crowd amidst all the dark grey coats of the other passengers, she spotted that crazy-awesome jacket that Max had been wearing lately. Victoria smiled, mostly inwardly. _Wonder who picked that out for her._

She watched Max lug a hideous green suitcase up the platform stairs. As she neared the top of the steps Victoria saw what else she was wearing, and her shoulders fell. _Oh no._

As soon as Max was within earshot she voiced the thought:

"Please tell me those aren't Jeggings."

Max rolled her eyes as she snapped the elastic waistband with her thumb. "Okay, they're not Jeggings. Actually I'm pretty sure they're off-brand. Hello to you too."

"Ugh. Why would you even wear those things?"

Max extended the handle on her ugly suitcase and started wheeling it across the skywalk toward the exit. "I just spent six hours sitting, and a half-hour standing on a freezing bus platform. Not gonna do that in what _you're_ wearing."

_Hobo has a point. And at least she's finally wearing makeup again. Even if it looks like it was applied by Michael J. Fox._

Victoria hurried to take the lead as they headed towards Weller Street. "Do you have something to change into at least? Takeshi's isn't _that_ casual."

At the end of the pedestrian bridge, waiting on the sidewalk to cross 4th Avenue, Victoria once again regretted her choice of skirt as the brisk winter air hit her legs full-force.

Max didn't seem terribly happy either. "Can't we just go somewhere else? All I have is this and jeans, and I don't even like noodles that much."

"No." The light changed, and she didn't even bother looking back toward Max as she marched onward. "First of all, it's the best damn Ramen in the city; you _will_ love it. Second of all, there are booths and half the people there don't even speak English. It's the perfect place for a private conversation. Unless you want to introduce me to your parents and chit-chat about this shit in your bedroom."

"Wait, we're going to a fancy restaurant to have _Ramen_?"

"This isn't your usual starving-college-student Ramen. Besides, I'm picking up."

The _thunk thunk_ of the suitcase wheels on the sidewalk cracks reassured Victoria that Max was still behind her as she charged into the heart of Chinatown.

_God I hate December,_ Victoria thought as they passed the shop windows. _Whole place feels dead this time of year._ But Kenji's grocer at least had a decent window display, baskets full of fruit and piles of fish on ice chips, and there was more up ahead.

She heard the wheels behind her slow down for a second as they passed Hung Vuong's butcher shop, and smirked. The cageful of live rabbits in the window was usually good for shocking tourists, and Max, aficionado of all things fluffy, was clearly not immune. Just like she'd expected.

But Victoria walked onward, resisting the temptation to turn and enjoy Max's expression, and eventually the wheels caught back up.

A few seconds before Victoria's legs froze solid they finally reached the door, tucked between a Chinese flower shop and some new Thai bar. If she remembered right... _Yep, not a word of English on the sign. Bet that warms her hipster little heart._

The hallway to the back half of the building was as dingy as it ever was, and _Ugh, that carpet_. Normally that dissuaded Victoria from bringing friends here, but this time it could only add to the indie cred.

One more door and _bam_. _Poshest Ramen place this side of the Pacific._

She looked to the mahogany podium and smiled at the familiar waitress. _Thank fucking god._ Today was her lucky day: Maiko was on front, and even after everything she was usually willing to put up with her awful mispronunciations and halting attempts at Japanese. _Time to put on a show_.

Max took in the decor with an only-slightly-stupider-than-usual expression, and Victoria bowed slightly in greeting.

"(Hello. I would like a table for two people please. I want only the Japanese menu.)" That part she'd run over enough in her head to make it sound fluent, and she pretended not to notice Max staring at her in surprise.

Unfortunately she'd only ever learned the word for 'table', and as Maiko showed them to one right in the middle of the restaurant she did her best to ask for a more private booth without knowing the Japanese words for 'booth' or 'private'. Pointing helped, and Max was too distracted by the hand-cut tealight lanterns and imported paper-and-wood screen partitions to notice.

Finally situated, with about as much privacy as humanly possible in the midst of a busy city, Victoria could finally ask the question that had been on her mind all week:

"What did you see?"

Max put her sad-looking phone on the table, affording Victoria a glance of an empty Yelp results page through the spiderweb of cracks on the screen before she turned it off. _Doesn't she have_ anything _nice?_

"I already told you. Stuff from other timelines."

"No, I mean Monday, when you freaked out in the hallway."

Max's face fell. "You heard about that?"

"The whole school did. They all assumed it was some kind of flashback but I had a theory that-"

"They were right, actually. Just your average, everyday, _non-supernatural_ PTSD."

"Oh." Victoria's shoulders fell, and she leaned her head against the back of the booth seat. "I'm sorry."

That bathroom had been looming large in everyone's minds lately. Victoria couldn't even open her locker without flinching a little at the memory of the gunshot; she couldn't imagine how badly Max must have it.

"Is that all you dragged me here for? To ask about my flashback?" Max picked up the menu. The only part of it she could possibly have understood were the prices, but she studied it intently anyways.

Victoria had seen that Max so many times before, starting at the linoleum or the desk or even Victoria's shoes. This time it was her fault, digging like that.

"Hey. I really am sorry." She reached forward and wrapped her hand as gently as she could around Max's palm, then gave it a slight squeeze. The hand was softer than expected, considering Max probably didn't know what moisturizer was. _Hope this works as well as it did last time._

Max looked up at her, briefly, then back to the menu. No, she was looking at their hands. _Good. Means I haven't totally fucked this up. Yet._

"It's pretty horrible, everything that happened to you. And I know I just made it worse, and if I hadn't been a shit-stain of a person, maybe..." She ran her thumb across the back of Max's hand and then gave it another squeeze. "I want you to know, if there's anything I can do to help... please, just tell me."

Max nodded weakly and broke eye contact, then withdrew her hand to pick up her phone.

_Better than a 'no' I guess._

After a few minutes of browsing a waitress sped past with a big bowl of Miso Ramen on her tray. Wisps of steam rose from it and trailed behind her, and Max seemed to catch the scent of it.

"Hey, I uh..." Max gestured to the menu helplessly.

"Right." _That_ was something Victoria could fix at least. A menu was about the only Japanese she could even come close to reading, but she'd been here enough that she didn't even need to.

"You could start with the Gyoza--that's dumplings, they have them with shrimp or pork--then get a bowl of Ramen. They have tons of options, you can get soy or Miso with the broth, curly or straight noodles. It usually comes with Nori--that's dried seaweed--and bean sprouts and Chashu and Naruto, and a soft-boiled egg."

"Isn't Naruto a tv show?"

_Oh god_.

"It's named after the food. Which is actually named after the whirlpools in-"

"Whatever. Just... pick something for me. Nothing spicy."

Luckily Max went back to looking at her phone, or she would have seen Victoria rolling her eyes.

"I'll get you the Miso, they don't make that _too_ bad."

"Is there anything that's not spicy at all?"

Victoria finally regained her favorite scornful expression. "Really?"

"Seriously, I can't stand hot stuff."

"Okay. Could we at least get some sake, then?"

"What? No! How would... do they not card here or something?" 

"Eh, we got Maiko, she doesn't care." _Especially if I bat my eyelashes right._ "But fine." _Gotta drive to Fremont anyways._

"So you come here a lot?"

"A bit, yeah."

"I didn't know you spoke, uhh... Japanese?"

"Yeah. Not fluently, but well enough." She hoped Max would pick up on the air of false modesty she was doing her best to project. "My aunt is half Japanese. So I took a few years of it at my last school and I visited her in Tokyo for a month two summers ago. Blackwell doesn't have it, so I have to get practice in where I can." _Dad would probably kill me for mentioning Aunt Keiko but fuck that old drama. Not like Max'd care anyways._

With that, Victoria buried her head in the menu. Max looked at her skeptically, then pulled out her phone again. 

It gave Victoria a chance to rehearse their order in her head, and just in time. Maiko soon appeared, notebook in hand, ready for Victoria's attempts at ordering entirely in Japanese.

"(What will you and your friend be having today?)"

"(I want Hozon and straight noodles with tofu, like usual. She wants Tonkotsu with Chashu and curly noodles, not spicy at all.)"

"(Not spicy at all?)" Maiko asked, subtly correcting Victoria's poor pronunciation. "(Just broth and noodles then? That sounds awful.)" She giggled. "(Your friend is very) _gaijin_."

" _Hai_." A dictionary would tell you that 'gaijin' meant foreign; Victoria could tell you it meant 'not Japanese', and was almost always an insult. It had been thrown in her direction more than a few times in this part of the city, usually by people who didn't expect her to understand what they were saying, let alone respond. It was nice to not be on the receiving end of it this time.

"(Maybe you should take her to Ming Manor instead.)" A truly terrible Cantonese place a few doors down. Maiko giggled more, and Victoria laughed with her. Until, that is, she caught a furious glare from Max out of the corner of her eye.

As soon as the waitress was out of sight Max hissed at Victoria. "What the hell was that?"

"I wasn't laughing at you."

"Sure didn't sound like it."

"Look, there's _nothing_ on the menu that isn't spicy at all. I had to ask for it specially, and she thought it was cute how white you are, and like, why did I even take you here."

"Why _did_ you? Was it some kind of bullshit mind game?"

"What? No! I swear I didn't mean it like that. It's just my favorite place near the station, and I didn't want to have to find parking twice."

"Really? 'cause I'm underdressed and can't get home or even order lunch without your help, and this all feels like one of your power plays. You gonna ask me more about my visions, while I'm at your mercy?"

Any other time Max would've been right. It was totally something Victoria would do. But not now. _Jesus I'm trying to be nice for once._ Clearly she was out of practice.

"Look, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable, I just... I thought you'd like it." _Or at least be impressed._ "The food's really authentic and I always loved it here. Kinda my own special little secret." Which was true enough. "We don't have to talk about visions at all if you don't want to."

Luckily the tremor in her voice sold it, and 'authentic' was apparently the right hipster code word to justify it all. Max's response was conciliatory, if still somewhat ill at ease.

"Thanks for trying I guess? I don't usually like weird foreign stuff, but I'll give it a shot." It wasn't like Max had much choice in the matter, really.

"Good. We can go to a grilled cheese place next time, that's your favorite isn't it?"

"How'd you know?"

"It's, like, the only thing you get at the cafeteria."

"Didn't think anyone noticed."

"Just like you didn't think I noticed you stealing glances at me in class? You're not as subtle as you think you are, Caulfield."

The fact that Victoria sat near the front of the classroom, and had only noticed because she was doing the same thing, was thankfully lost on Max.

"And you sure got an eyeful Thursday in the hallway," Victoria continued. "You like that? Or were you too busy hitting on that pink-haired nerd?"

"No, I..."

"Relax, I'm just yanking your chain. You're so fun to fuck with, I swear, I can't help myself."

Luckily for Max, Maiko chose that moment to appear with their order. Victoria watched as she dived into her Ramen more eagerly than her previous hesitation predicted. And she couldn't help but notice a flushing in Max's cheeks that probably wasn't a result of the hot broth.

After only a few bites, though, Max grew silent, and Victoria looked up to see her holding up a chopstick, upon which was skewered one of Max's two Narutomaki.

"So... what, exactly, am I eating?" Max asked as she examined her food.

"That's the Naruto."

"What's it _made of_ though?"

The temptation to answer "bunny rabbit" was strong, but there was no way _that_ would end well.

"Nothing weird, just fish shaped into a biscuit."

Max shrugged and took a bite. "Doesn't taste like much. And... kinda rubbery. How 'bout the rest?"

"I got you a pork bone broth, and the meat is pork too. That red stuff you've been picking out is pickled ginger."

Max continued to pick it out of her bowl. "And the egg?"

"It's just an egg. Soft boiled."

A few bites later the silence was getting uncomfortable again. Victoria rested her chopsticks on her bowl and took a big sip of water.

_Here goes nothing..._

"I liked your photos. The ones Mrs. Cameron put up."

"Really."

It was still there then, that wall around Max. Victoria searched her mind for a way through it. _I know it's possible._

"Please, I'm trying to be nice here." _Why isn't it working?_

Max put the soft-boiled egg back down. "I don't need you to be 'nice'. How about 'honest'?"

"I _was_. Seriously. I mean, the fact that you're so comfortable with your friggin' Polaroid is, like, the most hipster thing ever, but the shots were actually pretty cool. I liked the rim light on the SLR."

"Thanks. Yours were neat too. I never thought you could make an Oregon hillside look so foreboding in broad daylight. Spent half of yesterday trying to figure out why you're uncomfortable with that place. That was the theme for that one, right?"

"Yeah. Hated it before I was even there."

"What _is_ it?"

"That's where I was the other week." 

"A mental hospital?"

"Minich Creek Inpatient Psychiatric Facility. Hell of a place to wake up in with no underwear and no idea what happened the night before." Victoria pictured it and shuddered. "I swear, if you don't already want to kill yourself, having nothing to wear but one of those paper gowns for three days'll do it."

"Yuck."

"Managed to lie my way out of that at least. Now I'm _just_ in therapy for substance abuse and not... you know."

"Yeah."

_Cue awkward return to eating_.

Max clearly didn't know the proper way to hold chopsticks, but she was still managing to make a good dent in her Ramen, albeit without much dignity.

Victoria watched her slurp broth from the oversized spoon then use it to pick up the soft-boiled egg for one final bite.

"Not so bad, is it?"

Victoria should have waited to talk until _after_ Max was done chewing, because Max didn't.

"It's pretty good."

Victoria was shocked she didn't have to wipe anything off her blouse after that plosive, but Max had managed to keep everything in her mouth somehow.

"Glad you like it."

After a few more minutes where the only sounds were the clink of fancy chopsticks against their bowls, it was Max who opted to break the awkward silence with a question.

"What did you do for the Simms contest thing?"

"I ran out of time trying to come up with an idea, ended up submitting a sunset photo that might be a sunrise if you squint right and don't know West from East. Not really good, just some cliche bullshit the judges'll lap up if they're not too clever. How about your entry? Is it gonna be another selfie?"

_Oh god it is._ She spotted the guilty look on Max's face right away, and did the best to remove her foot from her mouth.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that of course. Like Mrs. Cameron said."

" _Her_?" Max's laugh had a shocking amount of scorn in it for such a teacher's pet.

"What? I thought you liked her, you spend like half your free time in her office."

"Well, she's not _bad_ , but she's just... such a _teacher_."

Victoria couldn't have thought of a better insult if she'd had a whole week. The fact that it had come from _Max_ was just a delicious layer of icing on the cake. "Holy shit yes. I mean, have you seen her actual work?"

"It's like she's making a portfolio for iStockPhoto or something. And it's weird, 'cause she has a decent eye for _our_ work, and she was really great helping me with my portfolio. But then her own stuff is just a sea of sappy cliches."

_Of course this is what gets Max talking._

Max probably didn't know that slurping soup was a sign of respect in Japan, but she went ahead and did it anyways, and Victoria joined in as she finished the last few dregs of vegetable broth.

"Yeah. And I swear, the topics she chooses it's like she wants it to be an art therapy class." Victoria put her chopsticks down on the rim of her empty bowl.

Max smiled knowingly. "And then she tries to interpret your photos like 'this random shot of a totem pole means that you've been through terrible trauma recently' like she doesn't fucking know what happened."

"Fuck I thought I was the only one! I turned in some bullshit photo of a street lamp because I liked the shape and she goes on about how it's _reclaiming_ something or other, I don't even fucking remember what."

It occurred to her that she hadn't seen Max laugh once since October, but there Max was, cracking up right along with her, as if everything wasn't a hopeless fucked-up mess.

Victoria leaned back and smiled. "Where the hell did they dig her up anyways?"

"I don't know. I heard they could barely find someone who would even take the position, after, well... him."

And just like that the joy was sucked out of the air around them, leaving the booth quiet for a few uncomfortable moments.

Max finally broke the silence with an offer. "I'm sorry you saw all that awful stuff. I really am. We can talk about it if you like."

Twenty minutes ago Victoria would have given her Jimmy Choos to hear that; now she'd much rather go back to the part where Max was laughing.

"No, that's okay. Just... Do you have any idea what the hell's happening?"

"I don't." And she wasn't lying, not exactly, but Victoria couldn't help but get the feeling she wasn't quite telling the truth either. Maybe it was they eyes, how they wouldn't quite meet her own, but then again Max was usually like that.

"No clue at all?"

"Well..." After a few seconds pause Max reached into her bag and drew out a business card. "I think this has something to do with it. Have you seen it?"

It was a brilliant blue butterfly, beautifully captured in sketch on heavy cardstock.

Victoria held it in her hand. She _had_ seen it, but it took a minute for her to remember where.

"That was at Chloe's funeral! It sat on the casket and I was like, what the hell, that's not from Oregon. Is it her spirit or something?"

"I don't know. I just... it apologized to me."

"It _talked to you_?" With all the nutty stuff going on one more thing should have been easier to accept, but _that_ seemed a bit much.

"Not to me. To Samuel. Some kind of creepy game of Telephone."

"The _Janitor_?" _Figures. Of all the people at Blackwell it had to choose that poor sap._ Victoria found herself, against all odds, momentarily _glad_ that she hadn't managed to get the freak fired.

"Yeah. I don't know what it is or why it's here. Maybe it was trying to make up for the fact that I can't see a therapist for all this without being locked up for life." Max put her wallet back into her bag and leaned back against the booth seat. "You said you had nightmares, right? Well I get 'em too, almost every night. People look at me and are like, 'oh I'm so proud of how you're handling your grief' but I'm not, not really."

"This is actual, supernatural shit we're going through, Max. Even if they believed us, all the therapists in the world couldn't make the visions stop."

"Maybe, but... ever heard the story of the guy in the hole?"

"In a hole?"

"Yeah. Like, there's a hole in the road and a guy fell in it."

"Careful, Caulfield. Talk about holes too much I might get the wrong idea." As soon as the words left her lips Victoria regretted them. _Brilliant, why don't I just bring up Kate while I'm at it._

Thankfully it managed to put Max off balance for at most a second or two before she she took a deep breath and tried to look annoyed.

"I'm just fucking with you. Should've seen your face though. Sorry. Tell me about this hole."

"Uh... there's this episode of The West Wing where one character is all messed up, like, PTSD stuff, and another one tells him a story about a guy who falls into a hole. A priest goes past and drops a bible down the hole, and it doesn't help. A doctor goes past and drops in some pills, same thing. And then the guy's friend comes by and jumps right in. The guy says 'what the hell are you doing, now we're both stuck down here'. And the friend says 'yeah, but I've been down here before, and I know the way out'. I never really got it back when I saw it last year, but I watched it again and it was like it was talking directly to me."

"Touching. _Do_ you know the way out?"

"...I'm still working on it. But the point is, we can help each other."

"I sure fucking hope so Max."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter of this fic so far, and also the most time-consuming; I think I've put more time into it than the last four chapters combined.
> 
> Part of that was because I started writing it from Max's perspective, but halfway in I realized it wasn't working quite right, and rewrote the whole thing to be from Victoria's POV. That was a lot of work, and I don't have much practice writing from that perspective, but I think it was worth it.


	49. Normal

  
Max had been unusually productive over the first few days of winter vacation. There was no particular change in her motivation, just a sudden lack of distraction. She was almost done with the ninth series of Doctor Who, but couldn't bring herself to watch any further. Not after Clara.

On the ride home she'd tried starting 'Pawn Stars', 'Downton Abbey', and even 'My Little Pony' on the thought that a million obsessed weirdos couldn't be wrong. But none of them had managed to catch her interest, or maybe it was just that watching some other show just didn't feel right.

So, with nothing better to do on Sunday morning, she'd finished and scanned her portfolio, and was now making short work of more college applications than she planned. By the time she was done she actually felt pretty good about her portfolio, and she'd sent it to UW-Seattle, RIT, San Fran College of the Arts, UCLA, and even SAIC. The last one would be a reach but her dad had lent her a credit card to cover the application fees and told her to go nuts ("but not too nuts", of course). After some hemming and hawing she sent applications for the 'undecided' track at Gonzaga and Whitworth--not exactly known for their photography programs--and a handful of other schools. For that, she didn't even have to upload a portfolio. She finally decided to stop at an even ten and switch back to the other place he'd given her permission to use the card: her Amazon tab.

_I literally can't put this off any longer._ Anything she ordered today would arrive the day before Christmas, assuming that the two-day shipping even worked this time of year.

Mom was easy to shop for. A few extra-special coffee blends always did the trick, and this year she added a box of chocolates that were decorated to look like ladybugs. Dad was trickier. 

A cat slipped quietly between her feet, reminding her of one more gift she needed to get. Something for Uncle Mark. Something that would fit in a backpack. Ideally, something that couldn't be pawned to buy drugs.

She felt a paw on her thigh. "Hello Toes," she said gently as she invited him onto her lap. Never mind that he was a twenty pound fat-ass, or that he usually just used Max as a step to get on her desk and walk all over her laptop.

In spite of his weight, and in spite of the black and white coat that made him look like a cow, he got stuck with the name 'Toes'. Every once in a while Max counted them, just for kicks.

_Twelve on the front, eleven on the back. Like Hemingway's cats._

The last few times Toes visited Max had to look up the word for it, but now it came to her easily. 'Polydactyl'. Greek, meaning "many fingers".

She was saved from her gift giver's block by a suggestion box with a little rearview mirror for attaching to a bike helmet. That and one vintage t-shirt later she was under budget and halfway through checkout, but then she saw the card in her wallet and remembered somebody else she needed to shop for.

Finding something for Kate was harder than for any of her relatives, and not just because of the cat vying for her attention. There was no way she'd match the butterfly logo for thoughtfulness, but a nice set of teas and a pair of extra-large mugs would do well enough, even if they took up over a third of her budget. <>

By the time she got her cart under the $100 that her dad had allowed, she'd need to hurry to catch Alicia and Fernando for a coffee date at the Bean Haven.

 

Her purple 21-speed was still on the back porch, as if she'd never left. She fumbled with the keys to the heavy U lock, and grumbled at how necessary it was. Living in Arcadia Bay Max never even owned one, and she'd been slow to adapt to Seattle. This was the third bike her parents had bought for her since moving there; it came with the best lock they could find and a warning that she'd be on her own paying for the fourth one.

The familiar frigid air bit her face as she sped down the street. The neighborhood hadn't changed much, but the hills seemed steeper somehow, and the trip took longer than the usual ten minutes Max remembered. When she finally got to the coffee shop she was sweating under her jacket, and she took her time locking up her bike, giving herself a chance to cool down before opening the door to the warm shop.

In a city where the trendy coffee shops were big and airy, the low ceilings of the Bean Haven gave it a uniquely cozy feel, and if Max wanted to she could have reached up and pulled down the garlands that served as the sole acknowledgement of the season. The decor was eclectic; a mix of thrifted furniture from the last few decades, on top of wood paneling and a brown Linoleum floor from an era of decor probably best forgotten. The result wasn't exactly attractive, but at least it came by it honestly, unlike the coffee shops in downtown that covered their interiors in fake brick and paid top dollar for wood reclaimed from old barns.

Their normal table was taken up by middle-aged women in Christmas sweaters, so it took a second for Max to recognize Fernando's stocky build and Alicia's waist-length blonde hair in a spot by the back.

Fernando spotted her first, and shouted across the room, "Hey, Max Powers!"

After a quick hug from Fernando and a longer one from Alicia, Max put in an order for peppermint mocha at the counter, then rejoined them.

"So how've you been?" Ferdie asked.

"You gonna tell us about everything?" Alicia chimed in.

"Yeah, just hold on, let me get settled."

Max switched her messenger bag to the other side and leaned against the back of a beat-up midcentury modern lounger, draping her legs over the side.

"Okay, so... It's weird, I guess, being back home. I mean, after five years in Seattle it's not really home anymore is it? I thought it'd be the same old Arcadia Bay again but... I mean, basically nothing's changed, but it still feels different somehow. Like, I'm back, but it's still a place I _used to_ live.

"And photography was basically the whole reason I went, but then after everything they brought in a replacement teacher and she's nothing special."

"That sucks. I know how excited you were to be in that program."

It was very kind of Alicia to not mention how excited Max had been about the photography _teacher_.

"Yeah. And all the other classes are a pain in the ass as usual. Hate Math, bored in History, struggling in chem."

"Are you gonna go back?" Fernando asked.

"What? Yeah, I... I think so."

"Just, you really don't sound happy there. Is it 'cause of Chloe?"

"Yeah. I mean, I think I'd be fine with everything else, but then... I felt awful for not talking to her for so long, and then we were finally back together for, like, a week before... she died."

Alicia leaned toward Max and laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "I can't even imagine how much that must hurt. How've you been handling it?"

"It's been really hard, but I'll be okay."

"Have you done, like, a photography project on it or something? That might help."

"Oh. Not really." Max resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _She's almost as bad as Mrs. Cameron._ "I just, like, talk to friends and the school counselor and stuff. And sometimes it helps to go do stuff with friends, hang out like things are normal, that sort of thing. _Speaking of which_ , how've things been up here?"

Fernando took the hint, and changed topic without missing a beat. "Mr. Fox is finally gone! He made some comment to a trans student and I guess the board finally got sick of his shit."

"Not a huge surprise." Out of the whole year of Early History class she'd had with him, Max remembered his sarcastic remarks about her IEP more than anything he'd said about the Assyrians. "Good riddance."

Alicia agreed. "Yeah. I mean, we all knew he was going to retire soon, we just weren't sure if it'd be voluntary or not."

"Heh. What else?"

Alicia's face lit up. "Oh, I don't know if you saw this on Facebook, but my uncle's in remission!"

"Wowser, that's great!. It's been, what..."

"Four years and three surgeries, and I don't even remember how many rounds of chemo but it's finally going away! Keep your fingers crossed."

"Definitely. And tell him congrats from me."

"Of course."

Fernando finished his coffee and continued. "What else... Oh yeah, you know the camping trip I was planning before you left?"

Max nodded. She could hardly forget, he'd talked about Mt. Hood all summer.

"It was really awesome! I hiked all the way to the top, it took like eight hours but you wouldn't believe the view! I bet you'd've run out of film halfway up cause of all the squirrels on the trail, though."

"Hey," Max protested, "I would've gotten photos of other stuff."

"True. There were a bunch of rabbits and deer too."

Max couldn't help but join Fernando and Alicia in a little chuckle, even if it was at her expense. _Hey, if you can't laugh at yourself..._

"Anything else?" Max asked. She glanced at Fernando, and couldn't help but notice that he wasn't exactly jumping at the chance to bring up Kristen. But she'd heard enough to get the general idea, and wasn't about to dig for the tragic details if he didn't volunteer them. "What about music? Did you get to see The Symphony X like you were planning?"

"It's just called 'Symphony X', but yeah. Thought I was gonna have to hit the scalpers but I found some guy on Craigslist who had an extra. They had to have a sub on drums since Rullo had that heart attack but the show was amazing.

"Other than that... I was listening to Ludo's last album on infinite repeat, 'til my mom threatened to take away my speakers. Then I switched back to Rod and Gab. They're just, like, crazy-skilled guitar players, I think you'd love 'em."

"I've had Reflektor on a bunch ever since it came out," Alicia chimed in, "but I also just discovered Tori Amos's older stuff, it's really amazing and totally from the heart. Oh, and that one group you saw in a coffee shop or something, the Wild Reeds? I've been following them and they finally have a real album coming out; I'll have to share the preview with you. You find any other good stuff lately?" she asked Max.

"Not really. I've mostly just been watching TV shows."

The news came as a minor shock to Alicia. "I thought you hated TV."

"Cable yeah, but there's some decent streaming stuff lately."

"Like what?"

"Breaking Bad was really good." _At least all the reviews said so._ "And Doctor Who and stuff?"

"Yeah, that's pretty cool. Which doctor are you on?"

"The old guy? What's his name..."

"Capaldi." Trust Fernando to know that one. "If you like that I bet you'll love Sherlock, the same guy writes it and it's really amazing. Only problem is there's only, like, six episodes."

Their conversation was interrupted a shout of "Caulfield?" from the drinks counter, and a hot and delicious drink, topped with whipped cream and a candy cane. She wrapped her still-frigid hands around the cup and sipped gingerly, then lowered it to her lap to let it cool enough to drink.

"Hey, you got anything planned for the 27th?" Fernando asked Max.

"Probably not... why?"

Alicia answered for him. "He wants you to come watch grown men pretend to play Christmas carols on electric guitars."

"Come on, the TSO is awesome," Fernando objected. "I saw a show when I was twelve, they had fireworks and flames and so much cool shit, and I totally loved it!"

"Yeah, 'cause you were twelve." Alicia turned to Max. "He already asked me. I said no. And things are still a little weird with him and Kris."

"So, Max. Whaddya say?"

Max shrugged. "Jake took me to one of their concerts back when he was still here, and it wasn't so bad." _At least the concert part wasn't._ "So uhh, sure? I'm up for it."

She could have said it with a bit more enthusiasm, which Fernando didn't fail to notice.

"Well don't let me force you if you don't wanna."

"No, I need to get out more. Helps me-"

Alicia interrupted: "Oh god it's Kris."

"Oh." Fernando glanced at his coffee. "Yeah, I invited her too. Never thought she'd actually come though."

Max glanced towards the door, then back at Fernando. "Why? I thought things were still weird."

"Well yeah, but you and her were always great friends, and I didn't want that to get between you two."

"That's sweet of you, but it's gonna make things hella awkward."

Alicia raised an eyebrow. "'Hella'?"

Max didn't even have a chance to explain before the crazy blonde ball of energy that was Kristen Nowaki was at the table, sporting a nose ring that hadn't been there last time they'd met, and a half-buzzcut so new Max hadn't even seen photos of it on Instagram yet.

"Hey what's up bitches!?"

"Ferdie just got Max to do the TSO thing," Alicia said with a laugh.

"Ha! Didn't expect _that_. But hey, whatever makes you happy. I don't judge."

The phrase "I don't judge" always seemed to come with at least a little judgement implied, except when Kristen said it. That wasn't her style. She hugged Max hard enough to pop a shoulder, and plopped herself down between Max and Alicia.

Max had hoped the new arrival would come with a new topic, but instead Alicia brought Kristen up to speed. "We were just talking about Blackwell and stuff."

Kristen had more than a few thoughts on the matter, and voiced them without much regard for anyone who might overhear.

"I can't believe what happened! It's so horrible. I read a bunch of articles about how the Prescotts were in bed with Mark Jefferson, and Blackwell took money from the them to keep it all quiet, while all those girls were being molested. It just makes me sick. I can't believe they haven't shut the place down yet."

"That might happen eventually; I know there are lawsuits. But in the meantime I'm still kinda going there. It'd be nice to graduate, you know."

"At least nothing happened to you though, right?"

"Y-yeah. I mean, the girl who was shot was an old friend of mine." Kristen was newer to the group, and wouldn't have made the connection otherwise.

"Oh, that's awful!" She lunged at Max again and enveloped her in another big hug.

"Yeah, it's been rough but I'm hanging in there." It didn't feel as much of a lie as it had last time she was in Seattle.

Kristen finally let Max go and sat back down in one of the beat-up 50s chairs. "Enough with all that nasty business. How's everyone's college search going? I just got into San Fran College of the Arts and Cal Arts Valencia and I have a good feeling about UCLA." 

"I got applications in at Stanford, UC Berkeley, and Johns Hopkins," Alicia said. "And one to MIT, but I just heard back from them, no luck. How 'bout you, Supermax?"

Max managed to swallow the sad memory that nickname brought up and answer cheerfully. "I just finished my portfolio this week, so I haven't gotten into anywhere yet. But I applied to UCLA and UW-Seattle." She looked to Kristen. "Oh, and San Fran, like you did. It'd be cool if we went together."

She wasn't sure, but she could have sworn she saw Kris and Fernando share a short, uncomfortable glance.

"My reach school was the School of the Art Institute in Chicago," Max continued. "No way I'll get in, and no way I could afford it anyways, but Dad paid for the application, so, why not?" She opted not to mention all the schools she'd applied to that didn't even have photography programs.

"I looked at them a bit," Kristen said. "I didn't apply 'cause they're not as big on CGI stuff but I think _you_ have a chance."

 

So it went for the next hour and a half, a conversation that wandered through the last four months of each of their lives, and only occasionally ran into things that made Max want to flee the table. By this time Max had a bit more practice in not sounding like a depressed shut-in, and if her friends had any idea how bad everything had gotten, they hid it well.

Before long the four mugs in front of them were empty, and Alicia was glancing at her phone. She finally stretched and lifted herself from the tiny chair.

"Sorry, but I promised Mom I'd pick up Ellie from ballet."

The rest of the table grumbled, but couldn't disagree; they'd long outstayed their coffee and the after-church crowd had made their table valuable real estate.

"Yeah, I know. But I'll see you guys later, right? Helio Sequence is at the Croc on the 29th. Anyone up for that?" Fernando and Kristen were, and Max took the path of least resistance and agreed.

"Cool. See you all then!" Fernando looked directly at Max. "And I'll see _you_ on the 27th. Mom's driving, so we'll just swing by your place and pick you up. How 'bout around 7?"

"Sure."

"It's a date then!" He caught Max's eye and reversed course. "Not like a _date_ date, though. Unless you want it to be?"

"Actually, no, sorry. I'm, uh..." "I met someone." She'd been holding that tidbit back, hoping to hear more from her friends than just endless questions all afternoon, but now felt like a safe time to bring it up.

The excitement hit the table hard, especially Kristen, who lit up immediately. "Met someone?"

Max nodded sheepishly and reached for her bag.

"No, you don't get to just drop that and walk out," Kristen insisted. "We demand all the juicy details!"

"Well, there's not much to say yet. It's kinda complicated, but she's in my photography class, and..." She paused for the pronoun to sink in. "...I'm not sure if I want to say anything more, 'cause it's not official or anything, but I think it might go somewhere? I hope?"

Truth be told, she'd been hoping for at least a _little_ bit of a reaction. Something more than just Ferdie raising an eyebrow or Kris nodding and smiling. But... _Isn't this is how it should be? Just... no big deal._

"As friends then. Cool." He didn't even seem too disappointed as he gave Max, Alice, and even Kristen goodbye hugs.

"I gotta go too, but you're gonna tell us all about her later," Kristen said. "Right, Max?"

"Right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, the 'Ludo's last album' that Fernando is referring to seems to have turned out to be their _last_ album. My indie music knowledge isn't exactly encyclopedic, but I did a bit of research and I think I managed to give each character their own distinctive style without pidgeonholing them (plus I discovered a few interesting new bands along the way).
> 
> Oh, and yes I know that Doctor Who series 9 is released after 2014. I'm bending my usual careful timeline a little bit; those who've seen the episodes I'm referring to might already know why.


	50. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally planning on skipping Christmas Day like I did Thanksgiving, until I had the last-minute idea for this particular approach and had to give it a shot. It's not quite like a lot of the other chapters, but I think it works perfectly.

  
Through the haze of fading sleep and happy dreams, it took Max far too long to remember what day it was.

She looked at the clock radio on her bedside table. Almost 8AM. At age ten she would already have harrassed Mom and Dad into wakefulness and bounded down the stairs, beleagured parents in tow, to open stockings. Just the stockings, mind you, followed by the most frustrating breakfast of the year: the one where she could see the pile of gifts Santa left from her seat at the dining room table, but wasn't allowed to open them until _everyone_ was finished eating.

There was a moment, as Dad poured pancake batter onto his old aluminum griddle, when Max remembered similar breakfasts, cooked with just as much love, by a family now scattered to the winds, for a daughter no longer alive.

 _Not today,_ Max thought. _Today's Christmas, I should be happy._ And she was.

 

The tree, and the presents under it, were still visible from the dining room. She wasn't sure how ten-year-old Maxine did it, but now the patience came easily, and she enjoyed her pancakes quietly as her parents talked of family friends and sales figures, irrational coworkers and vet appointments, and plans to visit Grandma's new nursing home.

Before she even opened the first gift Max could tell from the size and heft that the it must be some kind of book. The wrapping paper fell away to reveal The Art of Photography, a volume she'd read many times but never owned, and she smiled and thanked her father for the gift.

Next it was her mother's turn, and Max's rough wrapping job was torn apart to reveal packages of gourmet coffee--the same gift Max had given her every Christmas for years now. She still managed to act surprised.

Max held her breath as her father opened his bike mirror. She knew he didn't have one when she left for Blackwell, but who knows what could happen in four months. Fortunately he was overjoyed, and hurried to get his helmet from the closet to try it out.

Then it was on to the gifts that her parents had gotten eachother: donations to some charity in eachother's name. That hardly counted as a gift in Max's book, but thankfully the next box for Max had a much more practical set of gloves, hat, and scarf to go with her new jacket.

Then there was one gift left: a small wrapped package about the size and shape of a cell phone, labeled "From: Santa, To: Max". She pictured the spiderweb of cracks on her screen and hoped against hope that it might be a replacement. After her parents were done being all lovey dovey and gross over the llamas they'd bought eachother, she opened it to reveal a cell phone _case_. _Like closing the barn door after the horse escaped_ , Max thought, but then she saw the coupon underneath it: "Good for one phone screen replacement, from the shop up the street.", written in her mother's impeccable cursive.

It was something she needed, for sure. But then it reminded her that there are some mistakes that can't be undone, things that can't be fixed, and one of them was lying under a hunk of granite 250 miles away.

 _It's a thoughtful gift, though. I should be thankful for it._ And she was.

 

Afternoon came, and after a lunch of cheese and bacon melts on a nice thick italian bread the Caulfields gathered in the living room, around the gas fireplace. It wasn't just for decoration; her father insisted on keeping the thermostat set at 66, and Max sat on the floor by the coffee table, as close to it as possible, while her parents scootched their chairs up right behind her. One of the varieties of specialty coffee had already been opened, and the smell permeated the room.

Max was most of the way through The Art of Photography, for the umpteenth time, and second today. The fire's light flickered across the pages and warmed her hands whenever she took them out of her pockets to turn to the next one.

"Look!" Her mom was pointing out the bay window to their left, and after a few seconds Max saw why. A snowflake. And then another one. Then more, and more, until the view was filled with them.

She knew by now that it wasn't a harbinger of the apocalypse. Huddled by the fire, with snow in the forecast, it felt as natural as could be. But then, _like every other fucking thing today_ , it wasn't just snow anymore, it was bound to every other memory of every other snowfall, and she was was no longer in the safety of her parents' home, sitting by the fire with them behind her; she was running up the hill carrying the back half of a two person toboggan, or having a snowball fight, or on the top of a cliff, sitting next to a lighthouse with her dead best friend.

Max swallowed the feeling down, hard. _It's pretty, and it means we got a white christmas_ , she thought. _I should be glad_. And she-

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

At first she was angry at her mother for even asking the question. _I'm fucking fine._ but of course she wasn't, and this was something she didn't even have to lie about.

"It reminds me of her."

"What does?" There was no need to ask _who_.

"The snow. And the phone, and the pancakes, and today was supposed to be happy but I can't stop thinking about how she's not here!"

Every classroom and treehouse they'd ever shared felt emptier now as Max remembered them. Chloe was gone, from every street corner and soccer field and every joyous holiday morning, from everywhere except Max's head, where she wouldn't leave, and what the hell was Max doing, pretending she could ever be okay again?

"I'm sorry," she finished weakly.

But then their arms enveloped her, their comforting words washed over her, and after what felt like hours she'd cried all she could cry, draining the grief from her soul until she fell asleep leaning against her father's shoulder.

She didn't sleep for long, and when she woke it all felt vaguely childish, napping on daddy's lap, but it had worked, somehow, dulling the acute pain of Chloe's absence into a more general ache. The snow was still falling, and as dusk fell the flakes were illuminated only by the light spilling from their window onto the bush below it, and the lampposts and streetlights beyond.

Dishes rattled in the sink from the other room, and Max stirred and stretched, and finally stood up.

"You know, there was a time when you'd fall asleep on me and I could just carry you up to bed. Without waking you up, even. Now..."

"Now I'm too fat?" Max teased, pairing the question with a bratty grin, or the closest she could manage under the circumstances.

Her dad didn't miss a beat. "Too tall. I'd probably clobber your noggin on the banister halfway up." He groaned as he stood up, and Max could have sworn she heard his joints creaking. "Plus I'm not exactly as spry as I used to be."

"I bet you could still give me a killer piggy-back ride though."

He nodded. "Yeah, I bet I could, if you held on tight."

There was almost an inch of white now, topping the bushes and cars outside, and building up in the corner of the window, and they stood shoulder to shoulder enjoying the sight, until a loud clatter from the kitchen broke the snowfall's spell.

"We should probably go help your Mom."

"Yeah."

Neither moved.

Finally, her father gave one last good squeeze before taking his arm off of her shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Max."

"Merry Christmas, Dad."

And it wasn't quite,

but it was close enough.


	51. Figures

The smell of Guatemalan Dark Roast filled the Caulfields' tiny kitchen, and Max kept her hands wrapped snugly around a large warm mug with snowmen on the side. Unlike the rest of the year, today the mug felt appropriate, with a few inches of snow on the ground, and more in the forecast.

She put the mug to her lips for the last sip, and savored it in her mouth for a second before swallowing. _Good stuff._ The reviews hadn't been wrong at least. The thought of another cup was tempting, but if she had any more there wouldn't be enough in the french press for Mom when she got home. Which would be rude, since it was technically her Christmas present.

The radio on the window sill was old enough to have a RadioShack sticker on it, and was set as always to public radio news. Once when she was younger, Max had changed the station to KEXP. _Once._ It hadn't been real anger, just good-natured annoyance at having to get his own station back in perfect tune, but he'd still given her a hard time about it for weeks.

Her father listened to it as he chopped carrots and celery, and threw them into a green stew pot that was older than Max was. The whole kitchen was full of hand-me-downs that clashed with the sleek black and white of the counters and cabinets; a genuine Montgomery Ward toaster oven siting on a deep, almost glittery quartz countertop; a rack of knives with simple wooden handles, sharpened so many times you could see the blade curve inward from the heel, contrasting with the sleek white glass tile backsplash; and a set of handmade earthware pots for flour, sugar, and the like, sitting on tempered glass shelves. Next to Max on the breakfast bar, under trendy blue pendant lights, sat a painted metal bread box and an honest-to-god popcorn popper, refugees from Grandma's kitchen.

In the five years she'd lived in Seattle, it had never felt more like home than now.

The yellowing wall clock was always at least fifteen minutes fast, which was supposed to keep everyone from being late, but mostly it just meant that Max had to do a little mental math when she wanted to know the time.

_6:10, which is really... 5:55. So I have at least an hour._

Her phone buzzed with the fourth overeager text from Ferdie.

 **Fernando:** You excited yet?

 **Fernando:** I should be there in like 45 minutes

They'd agreed on 7pm before, but the pickup time was getting earlier with each message.

 **Fernando:** I'm totally stroked

_I'm gonna assume he meant 'stoked'._

**Max:** I'll be ready

 **Max:** Can't wait!

Alicia, meanwhile, sent her condolences:

 **Alicia:** Oh god he's so happy about this, it's disgusting

 **Alicia:** Sorry you got stuck with it

 **Alicia:** Thanks for taking one for the team at least

 **Max:** I'm sure it wont' be that bad

 **Max:** Might even be fun

 **Alicia:** I suppose you could try enjoying it ironically...

Busy with her own phone, Max didn't even notice that Dad had gotten a text of his own.

"Looks like the other party filed a motion to suppress." He'd stopped chopping vegetables and held the phone in his one clean hand as he read.

Who the other party was, or what they were suppressing, didn't really matter. Max could guess what that meant.

"So... we won't be seeing her tonight?"

"Yeah, probably." He turned the radio off, then sat down at the counter across from her. His posture screamed "We need to have a talk", but he kept quiet, until Max couldn't take the suspense.

She'd been trying to be less morose lately, and it wasn't even an act most of the time. But that apparently didn't stop him from looking at her like _that_.

"What's wrong?" she finally asked.

He rested his shoulders on the breakfast bar and sighed. "One of the things your mother is working on is a lawsuit about, well... everything that happened at Blackwell."

Max's phone buzzed, and she resisted the temptation to check it. _Probably Fernando again anyways._

Instead she met her dad's eyes and nodded. "I heard a bit about it from Kate. I didn't know it was one of Mom's cases."

"Mom was never licensed in Oregon, so she's just helping with document triage; there's a lot of evidence to go through, and she knows the firm." He put his phone away and wiped his hands on his apron. "Kate's the religious girl you mentioned, right? What did she tell you?"

"Just that it was against Blackwell and the Prescotts, 'cause they paid bribes to keep Nathan in school."

"That's the gist of it, yeah. Right now Mom's up to her elbows in boxes of subpoenaed files, trying to figure out how much Blackwell and the Prescotts knew, and how much they worked with Mark Jefferson. The settlement mostly depends on what we find during this phase, and how bad it would look to a jury, but so far things sound promising."

"Oh. That's good."

"Yeah. It's still early in the process, but your mother and I thought you should know about it because you qualify as a plaintiff."

Her phone buzzed again, interrupting the silence between them. She left it sitting on the counter.

"What does that mean?"

"Well... Mom's gut says the settlement will probably be well into eight figures. I assume the Ambers and Prices will get a fair chunk of it; after the rest is split up amongst all the plaintiffs it won't be winning the lottery, but it'll pay for any college you could get into, with a bit left over."

"Would I have to, uh...?"

"Testify?" He shook his head. "They don't want that any more than you do. Blackwell's a prestigious arts school with a fancy reputation and a fat endowment to match, and the Prescotts are just plain famous and rich. Unless we demand something outrageous they'll settle quietly out of court. And they have Bob Klein from Mom's old firm leading the case, so they know what they're doing."

Max couldn't have explained why she felt so little joy at the thought of a six figure settlement. Her father, however, could read her better than she could herself.

"I'll understand if the thought makes you uncomfortable. It might feel like it's profiting from Chloe's death, or just that you don't deserve it as much as the other girls who were affected. It's a lot of money, but you're over 18 now and I can't make you participate. And don't tell Mom I said this, but if you're really not okay with it than maybe you shouldn't. I'll support you either way.

"You don't have to decide now, but Mom will want to know before you go back to Blackwell. You should probably talk to her about it either way; she can give you more detail than I can."

Another buzz from her phone. Max was tempted to check it to get out of the conversation, but that would probably earn her a Look. Instead she did her best to put together some kind of coherent reply from the scrambled emotions inside.

"I don't know _what_ I deserve. I just... did you know they renamed the dorm?"

"No, I didn't hear about that."

"It used to be called Prescott Dormitory, now it's Amber Hall, after the other girl who died. And Wells is gone and the new guy is pretty good, and..."

"You don't feel like _they_ deserve it," he finished for her.

"Yeah. Blackwell is a school, and most of the people in it... I mean I'd hate to let a few bad apples ruin everything I guess. But then the Prescotts..." She could picture the name, on plaques or billboards, or signed at the bottom of a construction invoice. "Did you know they spent a million dollars making that room for Nathan and Mr. Jefferson?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"Umm... a reliable source."

"I know the bunker was on Prescott land but I don't know if Mom said anything about who paid for it. She might want to know that, if only to pass that on to the Kleins. Like I said, it's not really my thing."

Max smiled. "'Cause it's not boat stuff?"

"Hey, don't knock it. I've made more in commission on one sale than your mom makes in a month.

"As for whether you can join some of the lawsuits but not others, that's another question for Mom. She'll probably want to talk to you about it anyways, especially if you've heard anything else like that. I'm sure you'll get _some_ chance before you go back to school. Just not tonight I guess."

He sighed and picked up the coffee press. "I'm sorry she's out so much, that's just the way Law is. Great salary for partners, but shit pay and absolutely insane hours until you've risen to the top."

He topped off her mug, and set down the empty French press to return to his chopping. Max took the lull in conversation as a chance to check her phone.

First a quick message dashed off to Kate:

 **Max:** My parents said I could join the lawsuit if I wanted to. Not sure how I feel about that.

Then a look at the inbox. Four messages from Fernando, two from Maiko, and another one from Alicia.

And one from Victoria.

 **Victoria:** Got a xmas present for you.

Victoria. Got _Max_ a Christmas present. She wondered whether it was part of some scheme, or out of genuine affection. Both possibilities made her equally anxious.

_Best play it cool._

**Max:** Oh? 

**Victoria:** I think you'll really like it.

 **Max:** I didn't get you anything.

 **Victoria:** nbd

 **Victoria:** You'll appreciate this.

 **Max:** What is it?

 **Victoria:** I'd hate to ruin the surprise. It starts around 8pm on New Year's Eve

 **Victoria:** Formal dress

 **Max:** Like hell

 **Max:** Not gonna let you drag me off god-knows-where for some 'surprise'

 **Victoria:** Why do you always assume I have some ulterior motive? I'm just inviting you to a New Years party 

_Figures she'd consider that a gift._

**Max:** I told you I'm not a party person.

 **Victoria:** You'll like this one

 **Victoria:** Lots of artist types

 **Victoria:** And no douchebros with roofies

The fact that Victoria even felt the need to reassure Max of this did not inspire confidence

 **Max:** 'Artist types' like Mark Jefferson?

 **Victoria:** It'll be fine

 **Victoria:** And you'll love it

 **Max:** What makes you think that?

 **Victoria:** You're gonna make me blow the surprise?

 **Victoria:** Fine, it's at the Chase Space

 **Victoria:** That's my parents gallery

 **Max:** I know what that is.

 **Victoria:** There'll be plenty of photographers and patrons there to network with

 **Victoria:** Great chance to rub shoulders with the art world

 **Victoria:** You'll want to dress up really nice to make an impression

 **Victoria:** Do you have a proper dress? How about heels?

 **Victoria:** Maybe I should just take you shopping first

Max resented the assumption that she didn't own heels. Even if it was more-or-less accurate.

 **Max:** Why the hell even invite me?

 **Victoria:** Because I like you, you asshole!

_Oh._

**Victoria:** My 'ulterior motive' is that I want to have at least one person at this party that I actually enjoy talking to

 **Victoria:** Instead of just people my parents and I have to suck up to

 **Victoria:** But don't let me make you go

 **Max:** I'll come.

 **Victoria:** Don't bother

 **Victoria:** Don't need your pity

 **Max:** This isn't pity

 **Victoria:** Than wtf is it?

 **Max:** It's because I like you too, dumbass

She reread the sent message and second-guessed her wording. _Shit, can she tell I'm teasing?_

 **Max:** :)

 **Victoria:** How about I pick you up at 2pm that afternoon

 **Victoria:** Give us a chance to get you looking presentable

Six hours should be enough time to have Max looking more than just "presentable", but a text from Ferdie reminded her it was almost time to get going, so Max just sent back:

 **Max:** Sure

and switched back to Fernando's conversation to see what he'd been sending.

 **Fernando:** Mom just said traffic's bad, so I'll be there to pick you up a bit early

 **Fernando:** Like six thirty maybe?

 **Fernando:** at least we don't have to park

Then from just a minute ago:

 **Fernando:** you ready?

The wall clock said 6:40, meaning...

"Shit, he's gonna pick me up in like five minutes."

Her dad's face fell a little. "So, no soup?"

"No time. Sorry."

He motioned to the bread box. "Bagel? There's still some cinnamon raisin left."

"Sure." They always had some in the house, but only in Max's favorite flavor on special occasions, since Mom liked everything bagels and Dad only went for Pumpernickel. This was the third time in as many days that he'd mentioned them. If she didn't finish them off he'd probably make her take them to school too.

By Max's reckoning, no bagel was complete--or even edible--without a half-inch-think layer of Cream Cheese, so she fished some out of the fridge door and spread it hurriedly onto what was now officially her dinner. It was still a little lumpy when she heard the car horn outside and licked the knife before tossing it into the sink.

"Hey, don't I get a hug first?" He caught her just as she was rushing toward the living room, and wrapped arms around her, careful to hold his chicken-grease-soaked hands away from her sweater.

"Of course." She squeezed back, then ducked under his arm, slipping into the living room to grab her jacket and rush out the front door.

There would still be a lawsuit and a New Years party looming the next morning, but now, unbuttoned jacket flying like a cape behind her, Max barreled down the freshly-shoveled walk towards Fernando's family station wagon, and what promised to be a hell of a night.


	52. Mistakes

"Check it out: 'Space _Noodles_ '." Macaroni in the shape of the city's most prominent landmark was the nadir in gift shop kitch. So far.

Max held it up proudly to her mom, pun face on full display. Vanessa smiled and shook her head _what-will-they-think-of-next_.

It was a shame really. From the outside the place had looked cute, with a sign promising ice cream, and an ivy-covered brick front that was probably from when the island was first settled . The windows had featured a series of glass ornaments that made Mom's eyes light up, as well as a display of handmade bracelets that appealed just as much to Max, but as they ventured past the front register and a closed-for-the-season ice cream counter, things got cheap and tacky very fast.

Max navigated between a display of three different kinds of Seattle-themed pencils and a rack of Space Needle keychains to get to a rack of mugs that didn't look too terrible. Not that she needed a mug, but it would keep her occupied for a bit, and maybe she'd find something hilarious. And really, _anything_ was better than going back outside.

 

She was admiring a shelf full of Space-Needle-shaped pepper grinders-- _actually pretty nice, and the shape makes sense, too_ \--when she heard a gentle warbling and buzz coming from her bag. She pulled her phone out. The photo of a cinnamon roll on the shiny new screen told her all she needed to know.

"I gotta take this," she said loudly in Mom's direction, then hurried toward the side exit.

"Hey Kate, what's up?" 

The door slammed shut behind her, and she found herself on a small wooden deck, flanked by the rough brick walls of the shops on either side. The ice cream tables and chairs that normally covered it were stowed in a corner under a tarp for the winter, leaving only a plain wooden bench for Max to sit on as she took the call.

"Hi Max! I'm sorry, I just got a new phone and I didn't see your text until now. Is it a good time?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm just hanging out with my parents on Edwards Island."

"Prince Edwards Island? Isn't that in Canada?"

"Nope, just Edwards. It's right on the Sound, just a ways from Seattle. There's a ferry that goes there right from the waterfront."

"I don't think I've heard of it."

"It's pretty cool actually. There's a bunch of little shops, and some abandoned military bunkers and radio towers and stuff to explore. There's also camping and the beach looks pretty nice, but it's a bit cold for that right now."

"It's actually pretty warm today in Oregon. I think the high for today is over 60."

"You're lucky. Pretty sure it's still below freezing here. I was planning to try out Alicia's new kite yesterday, but we had to move it to next week it was so cold."

"That's no fun. Unless it's snowing."

"No, just plain cold. At least it's not windy. Wish we could've waited until it gets warmer, but Mom doesn't get all that many weekends free."

"What does she do?"

"She's a paralegal. Well, actually she's a full lawyer, barred and everything, but you kinda have to work your way up the ladder."

"What did she tell you about the lawsuit?"

"She was too busy, actually; it was Dad. He said they're still doing subpoenas and depositions and everything."

"And he said that you could join it?"

"Yeah. I mean, I guess I just assumed it was for the girls who were drugged, and I wasn't. At least," Max lowered her voice despite the fact that she was alone on the deck, "not in this timeline."

"I think it should be for anyone who was hurt by Nathan and Jefferson. And you certainly were."

"Yeah, but, would other people think so? You know all about what I went through but they wouldn't."

"They don't need to know the details. It's not even their business. Even before you told me why I could tell you were very deeply wounded by it all. They don't need to believe in time travel to understand that."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. It still feels weird though. Like if I do it someone might call me out on it."

"You saw the group, Max. Do you really think any of them would do that?"

"No, but... what if the lawyers say something about me and they realize I'm lying to them?"

"That's all confidential, Max. I don't even know the names of the other girls, except the ones who come to the group."

"Fine, I just... it still stresses me out."

"I'm not sure you can do anything to avoid that."

Max switched the phone to her left hand to give her right some warm-up time in the pocket of her rainbow jacket. "I... uh... I was thinking about what you said earlier. About staying in Seattle."

"Oh?"

"I think it has been better here. I still get nightmares sometimes, but they're not as bad. And I've been doing stuff with friends like I used to. I even went to a concert on Friday and they're dragging me to another one tonight. And I got invited to a New Years Eve party at an art gallery." _Best not say which one..._

"That's great."

"Yeah, but..."

"I understand."

"I mean it feels like giving up! Like I'll always be that sad girl who couldn't tough it out for five months."

"There's nothing wrong with doing something that you need to do to make yourself happy."

"Yeah, but it won't work; not long-term. It'll screw up my college applications and scholarships and then I'll be stuck living with my parents forever."

"There are other things you could do, like a gap year, or 13th year abroad like my cousin did. With the settlement I'm sure you could afford it."

"I guess so, but then I couldn't keep coming to the group. I think that'll help more than anything. And I don't want to leave Victoria. We've talked a bunch lately, and I think she's finally starting to soften a bit."

"That's good I guess. I... I understand you want to help her, just... don't let yourself forget what she did."

"I won't. But I don't think she's a bad person. She just made some mistakes."

"You saw what those mistakes did. In the other timeline..."

"I know. Hey, how was your Christmas?"

"Better than Thanksgiving. I think Dad gave Mom and Auntie Marsh some kind of _talk_ about how they were treating me. Whatever he did, everything's sort of mellowed out and gotten mostly back to normal. Oh, I got your presents! Thank you so much!"

"Great! Did they come on time?"

"Yeah. Actually the teas came the day _after_ Christmas, but don't worry about it. It was such a thoughtful gift; I can't wait to have some them with you."

"Me either. What else did you get?"

"Mom finally listened and got me a new cell phone, since my battery kept dying before noon. And Dad got me a gorgeous new sketch pad and pencil set that I wanted. My sisters and cousins mostly gave me gift cards. So I guess it was mostly practical stuff, but it was really nice to get your teas. I already tried out the jasmine; it reminded me of the nice Chinese place my parents used to go to. What did you get?"

"Dad got me a photography book, and Mom got me a hat and gloves to go with the new jacket. And 'Santa' got me a cell phone case and a coupon for a new screen." Max again decided to refrain from mentioning Victoria's 'gift'.

"That's great. I remember yours was-" She was interrupted by a voice in the background. "No, I'm talking to-" The other voice was indecipherable, but from the tone Max was certain it was a parent. "Okay, I'll be down in a minute."

Kate signed into the phone. "I'm sorry, Max. Auntie Marsh wants me to help with the pies."

"Right, no problem. I'll talk to you later."

"Of course. Merry Christmas!"

"You too."

A tap on the screen ended the call. The phone went carefully back into Max's bag, and Max's hands returned to their pockets for a moment to warm up. The shop was warm, but she couldn't go back in just yet.

It wasn't that she really needed the time to decide. Kate's call had done little but make her more certain of a choice already made. Screwing up the courage was another matter though.

Finally, Max poked her head in the door and saw her mom looking at a rack of scarves.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Could you come out here for a minute?" The gift shop was empty except for a teenager sitting at the register, nose buried in his cell phone, but this still felt like a conversation to have completely alone, and preferably not distracted by space-needle-shaped shot glasses.

"Of course. What is it?"

Max sat down on the bench under the shop window, and waited until the door shut behind them.

"Dad told me about the lawsuit." 

Her mother joined her, and set her purse down in between them. "He said you were a bit hesitant. I'm sorry I couldn't be there at the time but I'm happy to address any concerns you might have now."

"I think I'm sort of okay with it now, actually. I still don't love the idea of bankrupting Blackwell though."

"A few of the other students said the same thing, but there's a clear paper trail of Principal Wells ignoring student reports and warning signs about Nathan, and even some about Jefferson. They've done what they can to throw him under the bus, but strictly speaking, they're still liable for his actions, since he performed them as an employee of the school. He may be liable too, but he's not exactly wealthy, and you can't wring a judgment out of a stone. Jefferson wasn't rich either. He was tangled up enough in the Prescott business empire that there might be some things we can seize, but it's looking like the bulk of he settlement will be from Blackwell."

"But what about the Prescotts!?"

Her mother leaned back resignedly against the bricks behind her.

"It's harder to prove liability in that case, since all they did was make 'donations' to the school. Nothing was written down, at least not that we've been able to subpoena. They'll claim there was no quid pro quo, that Wells scrubbed Nathan's record without their knowledge. It might even be true. They're not exactly a sympathetic defendant, and they wouldn't want to go to trial--even one they'd win--so we'll be able to get some settlement out of them, but Blackwell's the big target."

She'd hoped she wouldn't have to do this, but with the prospect of them getting off scot-free, she hardly felt like she had a choice.

"The Prescotts did more than that. _Way_ more."

Max's sudden dead-serious tone threw her Mom off guard. _Good_.

"What do you mean?"

"I know some stuff about the case. I think it'll help, but you can't tell anyone who you heard it from, and you can't ask me how I know it."

"I'm not sure if I'm comfortable-"

"Please. I didn't do anything illegal, I promise." _Well, unless you count all the pot._ "Besides, don't we have attorney-client privilege?"

"That doesn't exactly apply between us, but I doubt it'll come to that, and I should be able to protect you anyways." She dug a small notebook and pen out of her purse.

"Do you know who paid for the Dark Room?"

"It was a subsidiary of the Prescott Corporation, controlled by Mark Jefferson. His signature is on the construction paperwork."

"No, that's not right. It has to be a forgery or something. Somewhere out there, if they haven't destroyed it already, is the real construction contract, for $1.3 million, signed by Sean Prescott himself."

"I see..." There was more than a trace of uncertainty in her voice. "How do you-" She remembered her promise and cut herself off. "No, sorry. How could I find the original?"

"Do you still have friends in the ABPD?"

"That's a good question," he mother answered. "You think it's in police custody?"

"Maybe. I think they might also have a letter from Nathan's psychiatrist, one saying that he's a danger to himself and others, and the Prescotts were refusing to give him the care he needed."

"Are you completely sure of all this?" 

Max nodded. "I saw them myself. I think the shrink's name was Dr. J-something? Does that help?"

"Yes, I think it will."

Vanessa finished writing, then put away her notebook and leaned over her purse toward Max.

 

"Is there anything else you want to tell me sweetie?"

Vanessa had dropped her well practiced lawyer tone but was still asking questions, and Max wondered, for a moment, why.

"Not really, just..."

In all the planning she'd put into this conversation, she'd never intended to say this last part, but... _If Mom's digging, she needs to know_.

"...the whole police investigation is bigger than they're letting on. _Way_ bigger. Like, _FBI_ bigger. Jefferson wasn't just taking the photos for himself."

"I see."

"You can't even tell anyone you know that. I just thought you should know what you're getting into."

"I think I'll be able to confirm it without letting on. That really throws a wrench in the works, though."

"Shouldn't I have told you?"

"No, it's good that we know. It means more work and more delays, but it also means if we wait until that investigation's public we'll have a lot more material to work with. More damages, maybe even more defendants, which would be great."

Vanessa caught an uneasy glance from Max and realized what she was saying. "I'm sorry. I don't mean it like that." She sighed uneasily. "Those poor young women. I can't imagine what they must be going through." 

Max thought of Kate and frowned. "I can." She took her hands out of her jacket pockets and stood up, ending the conversation before it could get any more uncomfortable. "Think Dad's finished by now?"

Her mom checked her watch and forced a smile. "I doubt it. He's usually in that sort of place for at least an hour and it's only been half that. What do you think he'll come out with this time?"

Max gave it a few seconds thought. "I'm betting it's a bunch of reel to reel tapes of creepy electronic music."

"Maybe. I saw an awful lot of bluegrass 45s over by the register though."

"Good point."

Two steps before the ice cream shop entrance she felt Mom's hand on her shoulder, and was deftly maneuvered into her mother's arms.

"You know, you may be all grown up, but you'll always be my little girl."

_What the hell?_ Max thought, as she hugged her teary mom back. _When did she get all sappy?_

"I want you to know you can always tell me anything, no matter what."

At least hiding her confusion was easy when they weren't face-to-face.

"I know, Mom." 

_I wish._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, there's at least one more video game that features teenagers with blue hair, time travel, choice-based dialog, and the Pacific Northwest. I couldn't help but put in a little nod to it.


	53. Last Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't play BTS right now, and don't even plan to install Windows until all the episodes are out, so there might be conflicts between this and the new source material. I might bother to fix them eventually, but for now no spoilers in the comments!

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," Max said as she sped around the corner of Wario's Gold Mine, dodging swoops and thwomps and minecarts and a few banana peels that Fernando had laid in her path, all rendered in glorious high definition on Alicia's enormous family television.

They could have met at any of their houses, but always seemed to gravitate towards Alicia's. The HD setup probably explained most if it, and if you considered the comfy overstuffed furniture surrounding it... _why play Mario Kart anywhere else?_

It was just her and Fernando for the moment, relaxing on opposite sides of the big leather couch. This was the fourth time Max had been asked about her girlfriend, and she was running out of different ways to not answer the question. She realized too late that this latest dodge had left an opening.

Fernando took advantage of it immediately. "So you kissed her?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Max retorted.

"Well yeah. Girl on girl is hot."

"You pig!" If Max hadn't been sure he was joking, the punch that she landed on his shin would have been a lot harder.

Unfortunately, she'd chosen a poor time to take her hand off of the controller: the Yoshi she'd been controlling veered off the edge of the course, and she cursed as the number on the screen ticked upwards, losing her the few places she'd managed to hold onto for the first two laps. _Where's a Bullet Bill when you need one?_

She couldn't even say for sure _why_ she was being so evasive about Victoria. It wasn't like any of her friends would disapprove--especially since they'd never met her. She didn't even blame them for their curiosity. It was only fair, really. She'd asked Fernando, more than once, exactly what happened with him and Kristen, and gotten the same kind of dodge. _"Eh, it didn't work out"_ and _"Turns out we're better as friends_ without _benefits."_

Her train of thought led her right off the edge of the mine tracks again, losing her two more places, and she resolved to focus on the race for at least the last lap. The Bullet Bill Max had been waiting for finally came, but her relief was tempered quickly as she remembered that the game only gave you such powerful items when you were in desperate need of them.

Fernando's third place victory didn't merit much celebration, but he stood up anyways, and concluded the race with a booty dance and a subdued "Oh yeah!"

Max rolled her eyes and tried not to look too amused at his antics. _Yeah, rub it in,_ she thought as she sauntered across the finish line for a 9th place finish that was only slightly less mortifying than her lapped 12th place in the previous race.

"I am _killing_ you, Maximus. What's wrong, you outta practice? Don't they have Nintendos down there?"

"Hardly anybody in the dorms even has a TV. It's all laptops and phones."

"Ouch. Want me to go easy on you?"

"That won't stop the computer from kicking my ass."

Before he hit the button to proceed to the next race, Fernando remembered the loud quack they'd heard halfway through the race--yet another distraction, which had bumped Max from 6th to 8th--and checked his phone.

"Alicia's gonna be back with Beth in just a few."

"Okay. No Kristen?"

"She wasn't feelin' so great this morning. Texted saying she was skipping today."

"That sucks."

"Yeah," Fernando said, with much less sympathy than Max. "This is the last time we'll all be able to hang out over break, and she has to miss it."

"I just hope she feels better."

"Eh, pretty sure it's just a case of Wine Flu. She'll be fine."

"Oh. Guess that makes sense." Kristen had snuck enough booze for all four of them into the concert last night, and ended up finishing most of it herself. "Tell her to drink lots of water, then."

"Already did. What'd you wanna do next? Koopa Cape? How about Moonview Highway?"

"I don't know," Max said, showing more resignation than she intended.

"Wanna try on 100cc?"

"Sure." It wasn't a happy 'sure', just a grudging admission that she was tired of losing so badly.

"How about battle mode?"

Max finally smiled. "Yeah." She'd turned him down when he offered to go easy on her, but this was just as good, and far less humiliating. Kicking his ass in _that_ would be no trouble, no matter how rusty she might be. "Just no Delfino Park."

* * *

A few races later the rattle of a screen door announced Alicia's arrival. She exchanged some loud and annoyed words with her mother as she passed through the kitchen and finally made it to the den, with Beth following like a duckling.

Max hadn't yet gotten a chance to meet the latest addition to the gang. She'd only heard a few things about her here and there over coffee, and the Croc wasn't exactly a great place for conversations. Beth was tall, with long brown hair in a ponytail, and an uneasy look about her.

"She wanted us to make _gingerbread houses_ ," Alicia said as she closed the door and sat down on the couch between Max and Ferdie, while Beth sat on a beanbag by Fernando's feet.

"Another Pinterest thing?" he asked.

"Probably. Like, I can't hang out with my friends and just veg, I gotta be all artsy and craftsy."

She picked up a controller from the coffee table. "I'd rather just have a bowl of Skittles and-"

Alicia was interrupted by the door, which burst open to reveal Mrs. Onterra looking sternly at the group.

"Let's not have the door closed, eh? Gotta keep an eye on you." Her tone was sweet, but firm.

The seniors shared a look, and as soon as Mrs. Onterra was out of earshot the grousing began:

"What are we, 13?" Max complained.

Ferdie joined in with more sarcasm than usual: "Yeah, I mean, so much for my orgy plans."

Max managed to avoid a mental picture of _that_ by imagining their hung-over friend's reaction. _Kristen would be pissed if she missed that,_ she thought to herself. _Pretty sure it's on her bucket list._

Alicia shrugged. "That's just how Mom is. She read some article on sexting a few months ago and started going through my phone every week til she realized I'm as boring online as I am in person."

"You're not boring," Max said. "Just wholesome."

"That's not really any better. Seriously, if you guys weren't here I'd be making gingerbread houses with Stacy and Mason. I'd probably even be _enjoying it_."

"Nothing wrong with that," Ferdie countered. "I mean, there's tons of candy, and if more ends up on the house than in your stomach you're doing it wrong."

"But it's so lame. I'd _so_ rather play Brawl with you guys." Luckily for her, Fernando had already put in the disc, and she leaned back on the couch and selected her usual Samus. Max picked Meta Knight, and Ferdie went with Pikachu as always. All eyes then converged upon the fourth player.

"Mine's not turning on." They were the first words Max had heard Beth say, and they were as timid as Max remembered herself being when she first moved here, when Alicia and Fernando took her under their wing.

Alicia took the slender white controller from Beth's hands and guessed the problem without even opening the battery cover. "Ugh! Mason stole the batteries for his stupid transformers thing again. God knows where he left that thing this time."

Alicia stood up to go search the house for it before Max interrupted: "No, that's okay. She can have mine."

"You sure?" Ferdie asked.

"Yeah. I think I need a bit of a break from video games anyways. And I hate using the newer ones on Brawl anyways." She handed her remote over and leaned back against the arm of the couch.

"Thank you. I, uhh..." Beth stared at Max like a deer in the headlights.

"Oh, shit sorry." Alicia rushed to give a cursory introduction. "Max, this is Beth Reynolds. Short for Bethany, not Elizabeth. She's doing the curtains now that you're gone. Beth, Max Caulfield."

Beth's "Hi" was short and nervous. Max put on her best warm smile, but it hardly seemed to put Beth at ease.

"Don't worry, she's cool," Fernando said as he selected the stage. The game started, leaving Max to wonder which of them he'd been reassuring.

She didn't have to wonder why they'd befriended Beth. With Max off to Arcadia Bay there was a gap in their gang, apparently best filled by someone as quiet as Max was. Plus they needed _someone_ to handle the fly system, and be that fourth player in Brawl. Just like last time...

* * *

For the first time in more years than she could remember, Max was sitting in a cafeteria, eating lunch alone. The tables were newer and cleaner than she was used to, and a roof full of skylights let the sun in past rows of flags for countries she probably couldn't even pronounce, let alone recognize. The tables were starting to fill up with all types of students; the athletes were easiest to recognize since they all sat together and wore jackets and uniforms, but after a few minutes of looking she spied what she was pretty sure was a table of honors students, the band geek table (given away by their insturments), and more minorities than she'd seen in her entire life. _Doesn't matter_ , she reminded herself as she turned her attention to her food. _Chloe's not here._

She'd picked a spot not _all_ the way in the far corner, but far enough that hopefully no clique had already made it their own.

She couldn't have been more gloriously wrong. A few bites into her "ribs" sandwich she was beset upon by a trio of kids she vaguely recognized from the rear corner of her homeroom class. A tall, stocky Hispanic kid with a brown paper bag lunch and an extra-large t-shirt that said "Mogwai" sat down across from her and simply said "Hi" as he opened his bag.

Next to him a skinny white kid with a buzz cut and polo shirt set his tray down, and smiled at Max.

Max smiled back hesitantly, and was about to say 'Hi' back when she felt the thump of a rear end plopped down on the bench uncomfortably close to her shoulder, then a voice.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

She leaned away from the voice, apology notwithstanding, and she would have bolted from the able if it had been another boy. Instead the voice was a loud girl with waist-length blonde hair and a beat-up Gucci purse.

"Hey, we don't bite. What's your name?"

She was only slightly reassured. "Uh.. Max."

"I'm Alicia. That's Jake and Ferdie. You new here?"

"Yeah."

"You're cute enough," the buzz-cut boy said. "We'll adopt you."

The metaphor that statement evoked, with Max as a sad lonely puppy, was as astute as it was unwelcome. "Thanks, I guess."

"'sides, we need a fourth for Brawl," the other boy said. "You any good?"

"I haven't played it."

Ferdie smiled. "You will."

At least, Max was pretty sure that one was Ferdie; Alicia had given their names too fast to be sure of who was who, but buzz-cut-boy definitely looked like a Jake.

"You into drama?" Alicia asked.

"I usually try to avoid it," Max responded.

Alicia laughed. "I mean like, theater!"

"Oh!" Max laughed sheepishly. "Well my uncle used to manage the fly at a theater in Tacoma."

"Close enough. I'm sure you'll fit right in. They don't have a drama club in Middle School yet but I'm trying to start one."

A pair of quietly exasperated expressions from across the table told Max exactly what the boys thought of Alicia's venture, but Max paid them no heed. _Theater might be fun._

Ferdie finished sucking on his first slice of orange and tossed it back in the bag. "So... what do you think of everything so far?"

"I don't know. It's a lot to take in. My old school was _tiny_ compared to this. The homeroom teacher seemed pretty nice though. The one with white glasses?"

"Mrs. Scarlet?" Jake filled in for her. "Yeah, she's a pretty cool teacher. Did you hear she murdered Mr. Boddy in the parlor with the candlestick?"

"Nope," The stocky hispanic boy deadpanned as he mimed a glance at a handful of cards. "I've got the Candlestick."

Max giggled, until she saw Alicia shaking her head in good-natured frustration.

"They've been using that one every chance they get," she explained, then smiled. "At least you got the reference."

" _Clue_."

Alicia nodded. "Board game or movie?"

"The- wait, there's a movie!?"

"Uh, yeah!" Jake said loudly. "And it's hilarious."

"You know the guy from Rocky Horror? He's in it," Ferdie explained, as if Max should know who that was.

"Rocky... is that one of those boxer movies?"

Jake leaned over his tray of mashed potatoes and meatloaf. "You're shitting me. You haven't seen Clue or the Rocky Horror Picture Show?" He turned to the others. "I'm not sure she's worthy of joining our gang."

Max was tempted to say "I don't think I want to, if that's what you're like", and it would have been the perfect thing to put him in his place, but it would have also been a lie.

Fortunately Ferdie stepped in. "Noooo, it's cool," he reassured her. "You know what this means?"

"What?" Max asked nervously.

"We have an excuse to do a Tim Curry marathon!"

"Sounds awesome," Alicia said, and turned to Max. "You doing anything tonight?"

"I... uh. I don't think so? You're gonna take me to see this Rocky thing?"

"My dad just got a huge TV, we'll watch it at my place."

"Okay I guess. I'm not all that into sports movies though."

Whatever was so funny about that, it was well beyond Max's understanding, but the trio broke out into laughter so loud Max worried that the lunch monitor would have to tell them to keep it down.

"Holy shit, I just pictured Sylvester Stallone in drag."

"Huh?" Max's bewildered face was getting an awful lot of use today.

Alicia shook her head as the laughter died down. "It'll make sense once you've seen the movies. So where you from? Small town?"

It was just about the _last_ thing Max wanted to talk about. But there was no way they could have known how much she wanted to avoid the subject, and it'd be rude--and really weird--not to answer. "Yeah, Arcadia Bay. In Oregon, on the coast near Tillamook."

"Oooh. Sore subject?" Alicia asked.

Max looked down at her still-mostly-uneaten lunch. _Goddamnit. Simple fucking question and I can't answer it without being asked 'what's wrong?'._

"I... left a lot behind. Good and bad."

"Sometimes that's the way things go," Ferdie said. "One door closes..."

"Another opens? Yeah, all the grownups have been telling me that a lot lately."

"Don't mean it's not true! I mean, even if you don't wanna hang out with us. There's this whole school and the whole city! Maybe it's good to get out of your comfort zone."

"Right now I just wanna go back. I'm not ready for all this. Besides, Chloe needs me."

"Friend of yours from the old place?"

"Yeah. She just..."

 _"Go on, make new friends,"_ her dad had said, as they stood at the front entry to Hamilton International Middle School. The weight of the past month seeped through the smile he put on for her, making it less of a lie than his chipper talk on the ride over. _"I know, it's not Arcadia Middle School, but it's not Mars. There'll be kids your age, I'm sure you'll find plenty of them to hang out with. You just have to give 'em a chance."_ He leaned over to match her eye level and gave her shoulder one last squeeze of encouragement before prodding her towards the open doors. _"Now go put yourself out there and have a little fun."_

_Or at least don't be all depressing to the only people who care to talk to you._

Max drew a deep breath. "I'm sure she'll be okay. And maybe I'll get to visit her soon."

"That's the spirit," Jake said. "Anyways you got us now. And we got fresh meat for Brawl. Who should we start her on? Pikachu?"

The conversation that ensued was full of characters that Max recognized, yet she still couldn't make heads or tails of it. _So, they're fighting on some floating platform, and they can't die until they get knocked off. And something about hammers?_ Mortal Kombat it was clearly not. Fernando did his best to explain the mechanics, and Alicia made a few attempts to get the boys to talk about something that didn't leave Max clueless. Max didn't mind too much though--there was no pressure to contribute, and it gave her a chance to actually eat--and the video game talk continued through the bell that signaled the end of lunch, all the way out into the hall.

Max ignored their debate on whether Bowser or Link would win in a fight, and pulled out the crude map the principal had drawn. Somewhere on it was her history class, and she held it up as if it would somehow be useful without her knowing which direction to hold it.

Alicia noticed her struggle and offered help: "You have Mr. Kavanaugh? That's right on the way to Math, just follow us."

Apparently all of their classes were in the same direction, one left turn then a right, past a row of vending machines, then a drinking fountain and a bulletin board covered in school posters. Even _those_ were different, with aspirations of inclusiveness and harmony rather than dire warnings to stay off drugs and don't text nudes. One row of posters listed strategies for settling arguments, and featured cartoon characters with smiles somehow bigger than the rest of their bodies; another simply said 'Diversity', with a background photo that had more nonwhite children than all of Arcadia Bay, and not a whiff of irony.

"Hey, Ferdie, what do you have next?" Alicia asked.

"I got Geometry and gym, then Home Ec. We get to choose our sewing projects this week."

Not exactly fascinating, but at least he actually answered without changing the subject to Brawl. _Third time's the charm I guess?_ Max thought.

"What're you making?"

"Locker caddy and a teddy bear," he replied, with more bravado than the subject really merited.

Alicia looked at him sideways. "Not starting with a pillow like everyone else does?"

"The hell am I gonna do with a pillow? I've got pillows. But I kinda need a locker caddy."

"Practical," Max said, and smiled. "What about the bear?"

"My older brother just had a kid."

"That's sweet of you," Alicia said.

"This is my class." Jake stopped digging through his backpack long enough to interrupt their conversation with that announcement, and one other as he split from the group:

"Now I'm gonna go home and sleep with my wife!" He said it over his shoulder as he left, and made a show of walking through the doors to the art classroom.

The assertion was so outlandish it had to be some kind of in joke. That certainty was the only thing keeping Max from looking even more confused than she'd been all lunch period.

Alicia smiled and rolled her eyes a little. "You'll get it soon. Just show up at my place tonight at 5." She scratched out a phone number on the torn-off corner of an old History assignment and handed it to Max. "Text me for the address and stuff."

"Sure. Thanks."

"No problem. Be there!"

"I will. Can't wait!" Not even Max knew if she really meant those words, but she would be there nonetheless.


	54. Plus One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't bother Googling the names of the other famous people at the party, I made them all up, partly because I don't actually know anything about the Seattle art world, and partly because I don't want to make things weird by including real-life only-slightly-famous people. Also, DONTNOD seems to have gone out of their way to make the Chase's first names illegible in Victoria's student profile, so fuck it, they're just Mr. and Mrs. Chase. Not like they'd use first names in this case anyways.

It never ceased to amaze Max, the sheer staggering breadth of options women had to make themselves look fancy.

Victoria knew of a full dozen nail and hair places within walking distance of her parents condo, and had strong opinions about all of them.

"Never go there. I heard rumors they were talking shit about customers in Taiwanese."

"There's one in that mall that looks really fancy, but they couldn't style their way out of a paper bag."

"This one's okay and pretty cheap, but they never have my colors."

"When I was twelve I got a stylist fired from that one for burning my ear with a curling iron." Victoria almost looked proud of that for a moment, before her face fell and she suggested they go on to the next shop. 

Max's fanciest dress--an elegant deep purple wrap bought aspirationally last year for a winter formal that she'd ended up going stag to--was 'acceptable', and 'almost fit right', which she figured amounted to high praise coming from Victoria. On the other hand, she wasn't sure whether to take the phrase 'it suits you' as an insult or not.

Heels were apparently mandatory at this particular event, and therefore so was a pedicure. As Max dipped her feet into the hot bath she gave a silent thanks that she'd shaved her legs and removed the last few traces of three-month-old nail polish from her toes last night. She could easily picture the look Victoria would have given her otherwise, and she'd gotten more than enough of that already.

"I think you'll clean up pretty nicely."

Victoria sat in a massage chair next to Max; her perfect toes being carefully filed and trimmed. Meanwhile Max's pedicurist was going at it with what looked like a set of pliers and a cheese grater, reminding Max rather effectively why she didn't usually get pedicures.

"Thanks, I-" The emery board found a sensitive spot, and Max inhaled sharply "I guess?"

"I mean it. Really, you should be happy. You'd be absolutely adorable if you just put in some effort."

_If this is what 'effort' involves..._ Max did her best to look skeptical, and added in an eye roll to boot.

"Seriously, I wish I had your hair. I've tried to grow mine out and it always ends up looking more Courtney Love than Cameron Diaz."

Those names were only vaguely familiar, and whatever fashion metaphor Victoria was attempting was completely lost on her, but she got the point anyways.

"I think your hair looks really cute on you," Max returned, not even having to lie. "And it really goes with everything you wear and all."

"That's 'cause I have to buy the whole wardrobe to match it. You get to pull off that crazy rainbow thing and it actually works, meanwhile I can't wear like two thirds of the stuff on the market 'cause I'm stuck with this pixie."

"But you make it look good."

Victoria finally smiled. "I do, don't I."

Twenty minutes later Max was admiring her pretty purple toenails while manicurist painted her fingers to match. Going with a color that matched her dress felt like cheating, but Victoria had suggested it, and Max certainly wasn't going to argue. Next it was on to a hair salon where, after fifteen minutes of agonizing, Max decided on a haircut that was essentially the same as the one she already had, just a tad shorter and with subtle highlights.

Victoria sat and read an issue of _W_ as the stylist snipped, combed, and highlighted Max's hair. After a few failed attempts at small talk from the stylist, Max sat in silence, glancing at Victoria until she finally caught her eye. She returned Max's nervous smile with a mischievous one of her own, but it looked like a _good_ kind of mischief. _I hope_.

One thing was certain: She was enjoying the whole thing far more than Max was. At first it bothered Max a bit, playing dress-up doll all afternoon, but it really wasn't so bad, and... _Hey, if it makes her happy..._ It helped that whenever it came time to pay Victoria fished a little gold card out of her clutch. Max raised a few cursory objections, but was secretly relieved; the hair alone cost more than the entire balance on her own plain blue bank card, and Victoria paid more money for the heels than Max had ever had in her entire life.

Just before six, with the start of the party looming, Victoria declared Max 'done'. It was an impressive transformation, and looking in the mirror she couldn't dispute it, she was not just Adorable with a capital 'A', but just shy of stunning. She wasn't sure if she was still Max under all that makeup, but she was sure she'd make a nice splash at the Chase Space.

That is, as long as she didn't break her neck trying to get there. Max technically already owned a pair of heels, but they were four years and at least one size too small, and the pair of Ferragamos Victoria had selected and paid for were a full two inches taller than anything Max had ever worn. Max leaned heavily on Victoria for the first few blocks, and grasped her hand tightly and unromantically for the remainder of the unsteady walk toward the art gallery.

Except that Victoria seemed to have something else in mind. Although Max's grasp of the Seattle downtown was a little shaky she realized quickly that they weren't heading toward the art gallery district.

"Wait, where _is_ the Chase Space anyways?"

"I told you, it's right in Queen Anne, by the Space Needle."

Max looked over her shoulder at the landmark receding in the distance behind them. "You mean _that_ Space Needle?"

"One more stop first."

"I thought you said I was done!"

"You are. And we'll get there soon enough, my car's just a few blocks away. But I wanna do something first."

Max stared at Victoria expectantly, but Victoria just smiled. She tried a more exasperated expression, but found it was hard to look convincingly annoyed.

Victoria just gave her that gleefully devilish look again. "Hey, can't I surprise you at least _once_ tonight?"

"Fine. This better be good."

"It will be."

 

It was.

Max should have guessed it sooner, really. As soon as they arrived she remembered their conversation over ramen, and the promise Victoria had made. At the time she'd taken it as a joke, but now... _Holy shit there really is such thing as a 'grilled cheese place'._

Technically most of what they served was a _melt_ rather than grilled cheese, but now was not the time to get into such a debate. Now was a time to order grilled cheese. Max, ever the purist in this field, opted for the Classic, while Victoria got a Veggie Deluxe. Max insisted on paying for this, at least.

As they sat at a tiny table by the window, chewing quietly and glancing at the busy street then at eachother, Max realized there was a difference between being invited to a party, and being asked out on a date that just happened to be _at_ a party, and she was starting to suspect this was the latter. When first invited she'd pictured herself as one of many of Victoria's friends hanging out and listening to loud music, but to Max's relief, Victoria had admitted in the car ride over that it would just be the two of them. Now, dressed up more richly than she had her entire life, eating her favorite food next to Victoria, and about to spend New Years at a fancy art gallery, she felt more like a plus one than a fellow partygoer.

It didn't hurt that every time she glanced at Victoria, Victoria looked right back at her and smiled. After months of being on the receiving end of her scowls, seeing her like that was _weird_. But not unpleasant.

 

Finally they found themselves standing in front of the Chase Space. Max had fully expected it to look like the Zeitgeist gallery, open and lofty, with exposed brick and timber of a former warehouse or factory. Instead, the Chase Space lived in a Victorian era mansion, with cobalt blue siding and shingles, accented by pristine white trim that lined the porch and windows, and a terraced garden that covered the space between the house and the sidewalk and somehow managed to look attractive even in the middle of December.

The uneven stone stairs up front were more of a challenge than the entire rest of the afternoon, and even holding onto both the handrail and Victoria wasn't enough to keep Max from stumbling.

"Shit!" Victoria caught Max by the arm, and put her other hand under her thigh to help her back upright.

As much as Max enjoyed where Victoria's hand was, there had to be less hazardous ways to get felt up. "Yeah. Okay, this isn't working," she admitted.

Victoria opened the door and pushed Max inside. "I thought you were exaggerating when you said those heels would kill you."

"Nope. Plus I think I'm starting to get blisters. Do you have an extra pair I could borrow or something?"

"I'm flattered that you think any of mine would fit. I have giant man-feet compared to you."

"I don't think a size and a half bigger counts as giant."

"It's still too big for you to wear. You think you're having trouble now, try walking in heels that don't fit right."

"Okay. What the hell do we do then? Should I just switch back to the flats I came in?"

"Your dress is way too long for that." Victoria half-guided, half-dragged her over to a nearby bench, then knelt down beside her. "Here, let me take a look."

"What?"

"Put your foot up. I'm just looking at your shoes, not your underwear." She smiled mischeviously. "Unless you want me to..."

It wasn't Victoria's first come-on of the evening, and it almost certainly wouldn't be her last either. Max was still trying to figure out if they came from genuine desire or just because Victoria enjoyed the expressions Max made in response. _Maybe both._

This time, however, Max realized that two could play at that game, and instead of an embarrassed smile she managed a nonchalant comeback: "What makes you think I'm wearing any?"

Victoria's eyes went wide, and flickered upwards ever so briefly. Her face fell. "L-Liar."

"Made you look." Half of Max's smile came from the prank, and the other half from picturing Victoria's face if it had been true.

Victoria took a deep breath and looked back down at Max's foot, with what Max sincerely hoped was disappointment rather than irritation. Her hands were surprisingly gentle as she adjusted a strap here, a toe position there, and tucked a bit of tissue under the ball of the foot. When Max put weight back on it she had to admit that it did feel like it was slightly less likely to kill her.

As Victoria got to work on the other heel, Max looked up at the staircase and imagined the centuries of history embodied in this place: women in petticoats and bright flowing gowns walking down the dark maple stairs, men with vests and tophats checking their pocket watches and adjusting their ascots as they leaned against the ornately-carved banister. She pictured the workmen carving the trim, the plasterer moulding the crown, the glazier fitting stained-glass, and she could have stood there, just taking it all in, for a half hour more. But as soon as her other foot was adjusted Victoria dragged her from the entryway into one of the side rooms.

"Hello, Tori!" 

Max heard the voice before she saw who it came from. A woman who looked like an older, taller version of Victoria approached the two of them and gave her daughter a kiss on each cheek before regarding Max. The pair looked eerily similar except for a few laugh lines and the mother's ginger hair. And _maybe_ some elective surgery.

"And you must be Miss Caulfield!"

"Max is fine. You're Mrs. Chase?"

"I am. We're _so_ glad Tori decided to bring you. She told us you're a photographer."

"Yeah. We're in the same class."

"That's wonderful!" The elder Chase walked toward Max looking especially pleased, and before Max could do anything about it she was enveloped in the woman's arms.

Max mouthed " _Tori?_ " to Victoria over Mrs. Chase's shoulder, and received a death glare in return.

The hug was soon interrupted, and Mrs. Chase called away to talk to one of the caterers, leaving Max alone with Victoria in what she figured was the dining room.

"She seems nice."

"Eh. She's in a good mood right now." Victoria glanced at her watch nervously, and looked at the front door. "We have a few more minutes at least. Want to take a look at the art while there's nobody in the way?"

"Sure, Tori."

"Don't you dare!" Victoria snapped back, trying to sound deadly seriousness but unable to keep her face entirely straight. " _Nobody_ calls me that except her."

"I dunno, _Tori_ , I think it has a nice ring to it."

"Remember: I know where you sleep. You keep that up you'll wake up with a dick sharpied on your face or something."

Max quietly resolved to get better at remembering to lock her dorm room door and kept pushing.

"Is that really a thing people do? I've only ever seen it on TV."

"Ask Courtney next time you see her with way too much makeup on one cheek."

"Okay..." _Tori_. Rather than voice the nickname again she mouthed it, and flashed Victoria an impish smile that had basically the same effect.

Victoria just rolled her eyes.

With that out of the way, they meandred around the rooms and up to the top of the stairs, admiring the artwork along the way. There were plenty of great photos in the first few rooms, all were beautifully composed and perfectly lit, and what felt like miles beyond what Max had ever achieved. Beyond were watercolors and a few oil paintings that were no less exquisite, even if Max had less of an eye for them.

Since there was, sadly, no place in Max's dress to hide a Polaroid, her cell phone camera would have to do. A few of the exhibits had plaques saying 'No Photography', which she figured implied the rest were fair game, and she got decent shots of a painting here, a sculpture there. None of those were particulary amazing photos, but she did manage a few surreptitious shots of Victoria, standing tall between picture frame and doorframe, and looking even more stunning than usual in a slender black gown and string of white pearls.

Then Victoria turned around, catching Max in the act. "If you want me to model for you just say so," she said. "No need to creep around." She flashed Max a few poses more suited to a fashion runway than the upstairs hallway of the Chase Space. Max's finger stayed off the shutter button.

"I kinda prefer candids. Besides, the light here doesn't feel right for posed shots. What do you think, _Tori_?"

"Want me to start calling you Maxine?"

"No." Max said. But as much as she disliked her full name, it might be worth it to have _something_ that got under Tori's skin.

Victoria just shook her head and moved on to the next room, leaving Max to hurry behind her.

They were in one of the half-dozen bedrooms upstairs admiring a few glass sculptures when the guests began to arrive, announced by the clatter of the antique front door latch and the singsong voice of Mrs. Chase greeting them affably.

"Shit, they're coming."

"Aren't you excited? You said Jennie Knoxlyn was gonna be here."

"Yeah. And Paul Hennesey, and Ergot and, like, half the art people who matter in this fucking city. And any one of them could mean the difference between being a real photographer and working at McDonalds the rest of your life. Don't you get it?"

"Yeah, let's go meet them!"

Victoria chuckled nervously. "Yeah, just... whatever you do, try not to be too... 'Max'."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It's not an insult, just-"

"Sure sounds like it."

"No, I..." Victoria clenched her teeth and took in a sharp breath. "You're right. I'm sorry, that was... look, I just kind of freak out right before all the guests arrive. If you weren't here Mom'd still be lecturing me on all the stuff I shouldn't do, like run or talk too loudly or forget their husbands names or eat too much or not enough or... Hell, if Dad was here he'd be lecturing the _both_ of us."

Max appreciated that Victoria had saved the anxiety until _after_ they'd talked to Mrs. Chase. "Well I promise not to do any of that stuff. Does that make you feel better?"

"Not really?" Victoria sighed. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but this isn't your thing, right?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine. I just need to be myself."

Victoria chuckled ruefully. "I bet you could actually pull that off. But I don't get that privilege. I'm stuck playing the Chase's perfect little daughter. And I just... I'm never ready for this shit."

"Well, ready or not, here they come," Max said as the creaking in the antique wood floors got closer. "Let's go rub shoulders with the upper crust."


	55. Midnight

"I just saw two women kissing. Like full on, tongue and everything."

The Chase Space had not skimped on the food, and Max was leaning over the buffet table, whispering furtively to Victoria between bites of an unidentifiable but delicious dip, scooped up with some kind of fancy cracker covered in seeds. Max's other hand held a glass of champagne, hardly touched yet, but her second of the night.

Victoria held a glass of what Max sincerely hoped was just sparkling cider, and drifted effortlessly through the crowd of well-dressed socialites, over toward a closed door near the back of the gallery, beckoning for Max to follow, clumsily, in her footsteps.

"Yes, Max. We're not the only two lesbians in the world," she said, voice lowered, as soon as they were out of the thick of the crowd.

The artwork on the first floor--paintings, mostly, this time of year--was not all to Max's taste, but she'd found a few pieces that she wouldn't have minded hanging in her dorm room. Except that the cards next to most of them said "Price upon request", and if you have to ask...

"I know. I just thought your parents weren't cool with you being... you know."

"Why the hell would you think that?"

Max followed Victoria up a small flight of steps to a sunroom off the back of the gallery, and felt a chill as she stepped over the threshold. Given a choice, Max would have opted to have their private talk somewhere warmer, but that cold was probably the reason the room was otherwise unoccupied, so it was worth enduring.

"Didn't you say the whole graffiti thing was to spite them?"

Victoria's indignation deflated. "Oh. Not them. At least, not like that. After the initial denial and panic they never gave me shit about being a lesbian. Just about being closeted. Having a gay daughter would be _so_ great for bragging rights in the art world, but the best private schools in this area aren't quite as open-minded, and _I'm_ the one who had to go there every day. Pretty sure they've outed me to half the artists in the city, but it never made it back to my own circles at least."

The only wall in the room that wasn't mostly windows sported a painting, some kind of combination of Cubism and Impressionism that Max hadn't seen before, with blocky patches that obscured the faces of a couple taking refuge under an umbrella. It almost reminded Max of watching YouTube on the lowest quality setting. Whoever had painted it must have had formidable skill, but... _why?_ It was big enough, though, to merit a padded leather bench in front of it, and they sat down.

"Oh. I guess that explains why your mom was so happy to meet me."

It also opened the possibility that all the cute and occasionally dirty jabs they'd been trading all night might actually count as flirting, and could be leading somewhere other than the dead end Max had assumed. The realization sent a kind of warm tension rising within Max's chest, and she turned her attentions toward the painting in front of them.

Victoria sighed and leaned back on the bench, resting her weight on her arms behind her and crossing her legs. "Yeah she doesn't usually _hug_."

"What did they say when you told them you were bringing me?"

"I just said you're a friend from photography class. Whatever they might have read into that, well... they probably opened a bottle of Moet after I left the room, but at least they didn't say anything."

"Was that why you invited me?"

"It actually wasn't. I mean, I guess it was _one_ of the reasons. I knew what they'd think but there's other girls I could have taken if I just wanted that."

_Wow, she sure knows how to make a lady feel special._

"Like Maiko?" Max asked, grinning.

Victoria bristled visibly. "What the hell do you know about that?"

"She slipped a bit of receipt with her number into my suitcase as we were walking out. Texted me some interesting things about you..."

"How the hell...? She told me she barely knows any English."

"She's been taking a class. And there are some pretty awesome phone apps nowadays."

"Right. I wondered who you were texting on the drive back. Guess I won't be giving her a tip next time." Victoria sighed resignedly. "What did she say?"

"That your Japanese needs work." She smiled devilishly. "And I'm not sure if Google translate got it quite right, but the phrase "Anime otaku" kept coming up."

"I'm not _that_ into Anime, we just didn't have much else in common. And I could tell you a few things about _her_ that would make your toes curl." 

Max ignored the bait and the oh-so-tempting Freudian slip, and decided to soothe Victoria's ego a bit instead.

"To be honest I'm impressed at how _little_ shit she talked, for an ex."

"She's not an ex. Not really. I mean, we fooled around a ton last year, but... shit, why am I even telling you this?"

"'Cause you like me."

"Right. Remind me again why?"

"Hell if I know." Max leaned toward Victoria with a silly smile. "It's not like you've told me."

"Are you seriously fishing for compliments?"

"Maybe. Why aren't you biting?"

"Maybe I'm saving that for later." A sly smile, paired with a gentle bite of her lower lip, turned the otherwise innocent-sounding phrase filthy. Max almost managed to not react to it, until she made the mistake of picturing it, then sat up straight, color rising up in her face.

Victoria smiled in satisfaction at Max's blush.

"You just love doing that don't you," Max said.

"I'll stop it when you stop making that face. Yeah, that one."

Max decided now would be a good time to look more closely at that painting.

"Are you having fun at least?" Victoria asked.

"I am. I just saw James Ergot _and_ Jennifer Knoxlyn. Oh, and I think one of the women kissing was Heather Stein."

"That makes sense. Her and Cassie are definitely an item."

"Okay. And I got to talk to this one woman who does, like, homeless photography? I don't remember her name but she pointed out a few of her pieces on display upstairs; the composition on them is awesome for candid shots, and the way she captures this kind of quiet desperation is amazing."

"I was a bit worried when Mom pulled me away, but I guess you _have_ been enjoying yourself."

Max snorted. _What, does she think I'm helpless without her?_

"That's Kristal Brenner by the way," Victoria continued. "Not really my thing but she has a good eye."

"She was really sweet too."

"Anyone ask you about Jefferson yet?"

Max had to think about the answer for a second. "Not _asked_. But it always comes up somehow. Like 'How do you know Victoria' and they just get kind of uncomfortable when I mention Blackwell. Then they'll say something about how awful it was, or just change the subject. Or both."

"I don't blame them. It's not exactly a fun party topic." Victoria drained her champagne glass and set it on the floor by their bench. "They already know _I'm_ going there; Mom made sure of that all summer. They're too polite to say anything about it to my face. I've gotten a lot of looks though."

"I didn't really notice anything like that. Everyone's just been super-nice and friendly. Even your mom."

Victoria looked around the room to make sure the coast was clear. "My parents are always nice when there's other rich people around. Rest of the time, the best I can say is that they pay my credit cards on time."

"They can't be that bad."

"Wanna bet?"

There was enough bile in Victoria's voice that Max didn't question it, but Victoria continued anyways.

"Seriously, that hug she gave you? It's more than I've gotten all vacation. Made me fucking jealous. I saw more of our nanny Alice than both of them combined for my entire childhood. They got me a new car on my 18th birthday, but they both worked late and I come home to an empty condo with a set of keys on the dining table and a post-it note--a fucking _post-it_ \--saying 'happy birthday'."

"At least you got a car though. I get to take a Greyhound back to school."

"I already _had_ a fucking car and I liked it just fine. This one was an _upgrade_. I would've rather had them actually care about me. I mean, I was in the fucking hospital the other week and they didn't send me so much as a text message. Now they're pretending it didn't happen, like they always do. I mean, not like I _want_ to talk about it but Jesus Christ, at least fucking _try_."

"That's awful."

"No shit. Like, I had enough trouble _before_ the visions."

Victoria leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, and cradled her face in her left hand, arranging her fingers carefully so as not to smear her delicate eyeshadow and lipstick.

"I just wish I knew why."

Max knew why. _Cause you just couldn't leave time well enough alone,_ she thought to herself. _Gotta meddle with causality and all that bullshit. Well look what happens._

"Hey, I'm sorry. I..."

That was all Max could manage to say, the sort of pity 'sorry' that she hated hearing so much herself. The real apology that she so terribly wanted to voice died on her lips with the realization that it was more likely to break things than fix them. Instead she leaned over a few inches to close the gap between them, then--after what felt like ages of agonizing uncertainty and hesitation--rested her arm on Victoria's shoulders. She seemed surprised for a few seconds, but then Max felt the weight of her leaning gently back, and held tighter.

The occasional clink of a champagne flute on a tray, or the thump of a heel on hardwood drifted through the house, underscored by the low murmur of polite conversation at a distance. For a party this fancy, that meant it must be in full swing, full of talent and vision and people Max always wanted to meet, yet all she could think about was the shoulder under her hand, the spot of bare skin in the middle of Victoria's back, and the way their thighs brushed gently against each other. Under other circumstances, any of those things would be enough to turn Max into a stammering moron; now she was putting every ounce of thought she could spare into making Victoria feel like someone really cared about her.

It must have worked, because after a minute or two of silent tears Victoria lifted her head from her hands and sniffed a few times.

"Hey, I should give you a ride."

"Huh?" Max had been expecting something hopeful, something sad, something wise or resigned or enlightened or _anything_ but that, really.

"Back to Arcadia Bay. I got a free seat in the Miata."

The beginnings of a nervous smile began forming again on Max's face, partly out of surprise at the change in mood, and partly because she'd been putting off buying bus and train tickets as long as she possibly could, and her procrastination had just paid off.

"Oh! Yeah, definitely."

Victoria sat upright and picked up her clutch from the side of the bench. "We should probably rejoin the party before midnight."

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it?"

"Doesn't matter as long as I can act like it, and I got plenty of practice. Besides, this is better than how it usually is."

Max didn't ask how it usually was. "We could still stay here a bit longer if you like. Just enjoy each other's company and..." Max gestured to the painting in front of them. "and whatever the hell this is."

Victoria chuckled. "That doesn't sound bad. But I think we've been gone a bit too long already; my mom's probably halfway through forming a search party for us by now. Besides, it's getting kinda close to midnight and I don't wanna miss that. It's actually pretty cool; they do fireworks every year instead of a ball drop or whatever."

"I lived here five years. I could probably watch them from my roof if my dad ever let me climb up there."

"Right."

"Yeah. We just walk down the street to the park and the view is amazing."

"Well here's even better; like, the best spot in the city. One year when the wind was right I got bits of ash in my hair."

"That doesn't sound like a good thing."

"It's worth it, though. The view is awesome." Victoria pulled her phone out of the clutch and checked the time. "If we get split again, wanna meet on the porch at five 'til?"

"Sure."

Returning to the party, Max found herself less and less interested in the other other attendees, and more interested in the glowing and animated girl next to her, who talked to the other guests as if she hardly remembered the breakdown, or perhaps hadn't had it at all.

Max half expected this part of the evening to drag on endlessly, but they finally got into a conversation about film textures with an older looking lady and before she knew it the guests began gathering on the side porch, milling about as the last few minutes of 2013 ticked away. She and Victoria found a spot at the edge of the crowd, with a decent view of the Space Needle, and she resolved to tolerate the cold at least until Midnight.

The fireworks began with less than a minute left; Max looked at Victoria and smiled for a second, and was elated to see the smile returned as a bright shell illuminated the scene momentarily.

With twenty seconds to go a countdown started, with the small crowd slowly naming the seconds as they passed:

"19"

"18"

"17"

"16"

"15"

The fireworks thundered and howled, drowning out the group's chant and leaving Max to continue in her head as she admired the bright star bursts and pinwheels overhead.

_10_

_9_

_8_

_7_

_6_

_5_

_4_

_3_

_Victoria._

Inches from her face, eyes closed, lips puckered slightly and headed right toward Max's.

The surprise touch of Victoria's lips sent fireworks rising in Max, even more brilliant and powerful than the ones in front of them, but the gentle nudge upset her delicate balance, and the Champagne and Ferragamos joined forces to send her her reeling backwards toward the porch decking.

Whatever instincts Max had that weren't dulled by alcohol sent a hand out to grasp for something, anything, to steady herself, but Victoria's dress was too tight and too smooth to gain any purchase, and Max ended up giving her a hard shove in the ribs instead.

She didn't look up to see who it was that she fell onto, but his strong arms caught her before she hit the porch floor, and steadied her while she regained her equilibrium. If he said anything, it was inaudible amidst the din of the fireworks.

"S-Sorry... Heels." was all she could manage by way of apology. She looked around at the tuxedos and exquisite dresses that surrounded her. The only illumination was from the fireworks, and with all the spots in her eyes it was hard to be sure, but Max could feel the most important people of the Seattle art world all staring at her stupid clumsy self anyways.

But not Victoria. Victoria wasn't on the porch at all.

She wasn't in the entryway either, nor in the den beside it, nor the sunroom.

Max charged up the stairway as fast as the heels would allow, nearly breaking an ankle in the process, but all she found in the bedrooms was art she'd already seen. It took some effort to locate all four of the mansion's bathrooms, but they were all empty, and so was the kitchen and backyard garden. Rushing through the entryway again to check the porch, Max was stopped by a voice from the upstairs landing.

"Oh, Miss Caulfield! I've been looking for you. Tori was feeling a bit ill and she said you'd need a ride home."

"She's not here anymore?"

"No, she's so sorry, but she couldn't stay. She said to make sure you got home safely."

After the fiasco on the porch there was no way Mrs. Chase would still be so friendly. She clearly hadn't heard about it yet, and Max hoped that she'd be able to make a quiet escape before word reached the Chases.

"I should be fine. I'll just get an Uber or something."

"This time of night on New Years? No, I'll just have Arnold drop you off, it's no trouble at all."

She was right: even with surge pricing she'd be lucky to get one at all. Walking was out of the question; even in broad daylight with normal shoes it would be well over an hour across dangerous roads and iffy neighborhoods. Now it would just be a question of which killed her first, the heels or the muggers. Or the cold, because Max's jacket was still in Victoria's car.

"Okay, yeah. Thank you Mrs. Chase."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna get some hate mail for this one.


	56. Safe

The outside of Kristen's apartment building never looked like much. It was a boxy structure of unappealing 1950s tan brick, with a courtyard that hardly looked any better in the summer than it did now. Sidewalks were cracked, chain-link fences bent out of shape or just plain missing, and the few times she'd visited this corner of Fremont she'd felt a not-entirely-irrational need to hold tightly onto her messenger bag.

The front door code was still 2345, and Max wasted no time getting to door 3C and pushing the ringer. She listened uncomfortably to the indistinct voices on the other side of the door, waiting for the click that meant she didn't have to spend any more time standing there. The hallways were still dingy and smelling vaguely damp, with industrial light fixtures poking out of the cinder block walls, and the same thin blue commercial grade carpet that had been overdue for replacement the _first_ time Max had visited.

The apartment, though, was something else. Rather than live with the disrepair Kristen and her mother had always done everything they could to make the space a home in every sense of the word, even if it meant bending the rules of their lease. What they couldn't paint over or fix was covered by curtains or crazy works of art, most of them made by the two of them. Logs found on the beach of the Puget Sound were carved into chairs, junkyard wire was twisted abstractly into the shape of animals, and paintings--somehow made up entirely of stark contrasts and vivid lines--evoked or symbolized something-or-other, while also conveniently hiding holes or cracks in the walls.

A five-year-old little brother, whose name Max couldn't recall, ran from the door as Max opened it, and sat down next to a bowl of cereal in the corner that served as their apartment's kitchen.

"Max?" Mrs. Nowacki shouted from somewhere in the apartment, and Max stepped through a curtain of wooden beads hoping to see what new works they'd made in the months she'd been at Blackwell. She was mildly disappointed.

"I'm so glad you could come! Sorry it's such a mess, the last few weeks have been hell."

Max could believe that. Unlike the other times she'd visited, the floor was covered in boxes and crates, and there were lighter squares on the walls where canvases had been. Mrs. Nowacki was on the other side of the living room, hurriedly shoveling books from a the only remaining bookshelf into a box at her feet.

"Where's Kris?" Max asked.

Rather than answering she turned towards the door that Max vaguely remembered was Kristen's bedroom, and shouted "Kris! Maxine is here!"

Her friend's half-shaved head poked out from behind a door frame. "Hey Max! Perfect timing, I just got done taping. You ready?"

Max opened her old high-school coat in response, revealing her rattiest pair of jeans, and an overlarge Mr. Hotdog t-shirt that was somehow both yellowed _and_ faded.

Kristen had suggested (or, rather, demanded) that they do something together, and this was as good as anything in Max's mind. Besides, it was something that might take her mind off what happened Wednesday night, and what was to come Saturday morning.

"Great, come on in."

Kristen's bedroom was ready as well: the purple walls were completely blank--even picture hooks had been removed--and her bunkbed, desk, and shelves were moved to the center of the room and covered in a plastic sheet. More plastic covered the floor and baseboards, and tape protected the trim and outlets. A gallon of white paint sat by the wall, next to a tray and pair of rollers.

"Thank you _so much_ for coming. I called Alicia but she's busy with some internship application stuff, and Ferdie's in Alberta with his niece, so it's just us. Mom and I have to be out of here by Sunday and we just got the keys to the new place this morning, so shit's pretty crazy."

"No problem," Max responded brightly. "We're visiting grandma in the home tomorrow but I'm free for today. What do I do?"

"Painting's first, 'cause it needs time to dry before the second coat. Just grab a roller and have at it." Kristen wasted little time popping the paint can lid open and pouring a portion into the tray.

"I haven't done this before," Max protested.

"It's easy, just watch."

So Max did, as Kristen used the slope of the tray to give the roller an even coat, then applied it to the wall effortlessly. After a minute of watching Max felt like she had the general idea and picked up the other roller.

They started from a spot on the wall that Max vaguely remembered used to have Kristen's first and last attempt at pointillism; Max worked her way to the right, towards the window, while Kristen went left toward the corner with the door.

"Now that Mom's not working at CVS we can finally afford something that's not Section 8." Kristen glanced toward the living room door. "I finally won't have to share a room with that little terror."

"Where's your new place?"

"Up in Maple Leaf, over by 522."

"That's pretty far away. Are you gonna change schools?"

Kristen walked back to the pan for more paint. "Fuck no. Howie is, but we asked the district and they're gonna let me finish out the year here."

"That's good. It was pretty weird starting Blackwell, and that was at the beginning of my senior year. Changing schools five months before you graduate would really suck."

"How's Blackwell been anyways? Other than the whole, you know..."

"Eh. It's a ton of work and not much fun."

"So, just like every other High School."

"Well, yeah, but... I was all excited about going but then... the new photography teacher is just kinda disappointing and I haven't made all that many friends and stuff."

Kristen's roller finally reached the door, and she closed it to paint the wall behind it.

"Actually that was another reason I wanted you to come by. Figured us girls could use some alone time."

Max wasn't sure she liked where this was going. "Oh?"

"No, don't worry. It doesn't have to be all gloomy stuff. Like, I wanna hear about that girl you mentioned."

"Oh. Okay, yeah. I guess it's kind of complicated."

"Doesn't have to be. What's her name?"

"Victoria."

"Ooo, sounds fancy. How'd you meet?"

"She's in my Photography class, and English."

"You suck at telling stories. Come on, I wanna feel like I was there! Like, did she kiss you over a vat of developing fluid, or model naked for you, or what?"

Max laughed with some combination of amusement and horror. "No! God, nothing like that. They don't even use developing fluid anymore. She was just another student for the first few months. And she was honestly kind of mean. Like she..." _Mocked me constantly? Made my life hell? Literally drove my best friend to suicide?_ Trying to explain it out loud without sounding insane or masochistic was harder than expected. "...she made fun of me for being a hipster cliché. Not just friendly teasing either. But I never thought she was a bad person." _Okay, clearly there's no way to do this without stretching the truth, just a little._ Max grasped for a few 'misunderstood bully' cliches to help out. "I always felt there was something under it though. Like she was confused. Like she really just didn't like herself." Halfway through saying it she realized that part might even be right.

"That's a hell of a choice for a first relationship."

"Well we didn't exactly _choose_ to get together. After all the Jefferson stuff we were both hurting, and she just invited herself into my room and eventually started talking about it. I don't think she's opened up like that to anyone else but me."

"So not exactly a fairytale romance, but no serious red flags at least?"

"Yeah. I mean, she's kind of a piece of work, but I think on the inside she's not really evil. It just takes a while to get to know her."

"Well I applaud your patience, but I'm all like, why bother when there's so many people who're also nice on the outside?"

"It's not about what's easy, or fun. I think it's about what we both need."

"I get that, I guess. Once or twice I even tried it. But I don't know if that qualifies as 'complicated' in my book."

"Well the thing is we're not actually going out. At least I don't think so? I mean, we kinda tried but... so you know that New Years party I posted on Instagram?" Kristen certainly did, she'd left a comment congratulating Max on her first update in three months.

"She was the one who invited me. It was at this super-upscale gallery downtown, and she blew a ton of cash getting me all styled and fancy-looking for it."

"I was wondering where the highlights came from."

"Yeah, I sure didn't get them on my own. She paid for that, and nails, and makeup, and a pair of heels that cost more than my phone."

"Jesus." Kristen shook her head. "So it wasn't just a party, it was a _date_."

"I wasn't sure about it at first but yeah. I mean, she took me out to a _grilled cheese place_ beforehand. I didn't even know that was a thing."

Kris broke out in laughter. "I bet you loved that!"

"It was good, yeah. Really good. And it was sweet of her, and thoughtful and I'm basically putty in her hands at that point.

"And then the party started out pretty great, and we're bonding a bit, and having some fun, maybe even flirting a little. And I got to meet James Ergot which was the greatest thing ever. He's like one of my favorite photographers," Max explained, because Kristen probably wouldn't recognize the name otherwise; Max had spent most of their art-related discussions gushing about a different photographer, whose work she could no longer stand to even look at.

"Oh and she offers to drive me back to Blackwell with her, which is great 'cause then I don't have to take a bus, and at that point I wanna spend as much time with her as I can." At this point Max was putting most of her available thought into describing the night, and ran her roller distractedly over the same spot, over and over.

"Then at the stroke of midnight she goes in for a kiss--our _first_ kiss--but it sorta took me by surprise and I completely fuck everything up. I mean, I'm in these stupidly tall heels and a bit tipsy, and when she goes for it she kinda pushes me off balance and I go down hard on the floor. Pretty sure I knocked her down too in the process.

"And it was all right in front of a bunch of important art people and _her parents_ \--who own the whole place by the way--and I'm mortified, and she's so embarrassed she disappeared for the whole rest of the night.

"This morning she sent me a single text saying she'll still drive me down to Oregon but 'I'll understand if you don't want to see me again.' Not sure if that's some kind of passive-aggressive jab or what but I can't buy bus tickets this late. So I texted her back saying that and she just sent me a pickup time."

"So by 'it's complicated' you actually mean 'I don't know because I'm too scared to ask'."

"It sounds stupid when you put it that way."

Kristen just gave her a look and waited for her to get the hint.

"Yeah, I guess I should probably text her. I mean, I tried when I was looking for her, but she didn't respond. Maybe I should send another one saying sorry? I just can't shake the feeling that she'll still be mad."

"You're gonna be stuck in the car with her, right? Maybe do it then? Personal touch and shit. But I mean... if she's pissed off about this maybe it's not meant to be? You've always been all sorts of awkward and clumsy, and the right person for you will love you for it."

"You're right. I just keep thinking about _her_."

"She must be pretty hot."

Max laughed. "Definitely. She has an amazing sense of style, and her legs are... actually I have a photo." Max reached into her pocket with her non-paint-covered hand and pulled out her phone.

Most of the photos were of the space, or the works on display, or the upper crust attendees, but there was at least one good candid of Victoria (" _Tori_ " Max reminded herself with a smile), and Max took a break from painting to show it to Kristen.

"Yep. Nice calves and killer fashion sense. I hope she makes you happy." Kristen pulled her old dumpster desk out from under the plastic and stood on it to start on the two foot stripe at the top of the wall that neither she nor Max could reach. "Congrats on coming out by the way."

"Thanks." _At least_ someone _noticed._

"I like how you were all subtle about it. Pretty sure Alicia was wracking her brain trying to figure out if you already mentioned it on Facebook or something and she forgot."

"Nope, that was the first. And I guess I'm not even all the way out yet. Like, I told you guys and my parents and a friend or two at Blackwell but I haven't exactly announced it to the world."

"I think the only place you should _announce_ your sexuality is on your Tinder profile. Maybe Facebook, just so people know who to flirt with."

"I could do that. Facebook I mean. I don't have a Tinder. Always felt like it was kind of a creepy meet market."

"What, and you're a vegetarian?" She knew full well Max was not, in any sense of the word.

"No, I just... I want it to be special. I wanna meet someone and flirt with them and find some kind of connection, and then when I kiss her it'll really mean something."

"'Her'? So are you, like, _over_ boys?"

It wasn't something Max had thought about, really. She'd never gone through a boy-crazy phase like Kris and Alicia did, but the desire had always been there. Now she could hardly even remember the last time she'd looked at a boy the same way she looked at Victoria. "I dunno. Maybe? Maybe not forever, but it's really not what I need right now, especially after... everything."

Kristen flashed her a concerned frown, and Max decided to steer the conversation away from herself. 

"What about you? You in the 'both' camp now? Or was that just an "experiment" with Erin last year?"

"Well it _was_ an experiment, but lets just say the results were very promising."

"Right." Max finally made it to the first corner and started on the second wall.

"I mean, most of what I do is just trying to find out what I like, and I figure I won't know 'til I try it. Like that thing I had with Ferdie."

"What did you learn from that?"

"Not to do it again?" Kristen grinned.

"You mean _you're_ over boys?"

"I dunno, I think it depends on my mood. I mean, Ferdie was an awesome lay and he always left me just _pounded_ into the ground. In a good way, I mean. But then things got weird and I kinda freaked out. Besides, he was totally vanilla, and I think sometimes I just need a woman's touch. Like, seeing Erin strip down didn't _quite_ get my engine going the same way, but she did this thing with her tongue all over the place, and it was literally a spiritual experience, swear to god it had me talking in tongues once for, like, a minute afterward. Especially when she hit the right... Fuck, I should probably stop before I get all bothered. Plus it looks like all the blood's gone to your face," she finished with a knowing smile.

Max had indeed turned a very dark shade of red. She nodded ever so slightly.

"What," Kristen teased as she drew her roller carefully around the top of the window trim. "Don't like hearing all the dirty details of my sex life?"

An embarrassed smile was all the answer Max could manage.

"Wait, are you _actually_ uncomfortable with me oversharing? I can tone it down if you're-"

"No, it's fine. I just don't normally talk about stuff like this with friends." _Or anyone, really._

"You should try it! People who freak out about it aren't worth your time anyways." Kris finally jumped down from the desk and started on the wall next to Max.

"What about Kate?" Max realized she wasn't even sure if she'd mentioned Kate by name.

It turned out she didn't need to. "She was the girl in the video wasn't she?"

Max nodded, and wondered fleetingly where Kristen had heard about that part. "I met her at Blackwell, and she's my closest friend there. She's... very Christian, but she's so understanding, and selfless, and even open minded. She's been there for me when I needed her. We're there for _eachother_. Just 'cause she doesn't like to talk about sex doesn't mean she's not a good person."

Kristen seemed to accept the last point, or at least she didn't argue any further like she normally would have. Instead she lifted her paint roller from the wall and turned to face Max with an expression suddenly devoid of the joy that Kristen had worn on her sleeve, seemingly without fail, since they'd met three years ago.

"I wanted to ask you something. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to talk about it. You don't have to answer at all really. Or if you don't feel like it's my business you can just say no and that's totally fine."

Max felt her blood pressure rising with each reassurance.

"I just... don't wanna put any pressure on you at all, but... did Mark Jefferson drug _you_?"

Even with permission to lie, there was no way Max could pull off a denial that wasn't insultingly unbelievable. She wasn't sure she wanted to either. _She's my friend, and she really cares about me. She deserves the... well okay maybe not the_ whole _truth--although knowing Kris she'd probably believe in time travel if I phrased it new-agey enough. But definitely not a lie._ The few seconds she'd already hesitated were probably answer enough anyways.

"Please don't tell anyone."

"Of course not, Max."

Max sat down on a plastic-covered stool. "I really don't want to talk about it. I just... How did you know?" 

Kristen set her roller down in the tray and sat down on a file cabinet, plastic crinkling as her feet tapped against the metal side.

"I dunno, I guess I just felt something off about your aura, like... you've changed a bit. Like when Alicia sent you that track and she had to push you to even listen to it. And this is like the fifth time we've hung out and you haven't said a word about photography all break."

Max hated how true it all was, wished she hadn't asked, but couldn't think of a good way to interrupt.

"At first I assumed it was just 'cause of your friend, but I kept getting a vibe like it was deeper than that. Then when we were out at the Croc you didn't drink a drop, not even from my flask, not even water. And I just got the idea but I thought no way, you would've told us. But then every so often you'd say something that made me think about it again. Like when we were at the park and you talked about Jake's creeper bullshit like it was no big deal, and it didn't make sense 'til I thought about Jefferson again and I was like... Fuck."

Max turned away from Kristen to pick her roller up from the tray, but she hardly touched the wall with it before dropping it again and leaning against an unpainted section of wall. Kristen had gotten down from her perch on the cabinet, but was still looking at her.

"Are you gonna ask me if I'm okay and everything?"

Kristen picked up the paint tray and slowly carried it toward the unpainted half of the room. She set it down carefully next to a purple section of wall, but left her roller sitting in it and turned to Max instead.

"You said you didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't, I just... fuck, is it really that obvious?"

Kristen shook her head. "I had to look pretty close. And even then I wasn't totally sure 'til now."

"I'm still gonna be freaking out all vacation wondering who else can tell."

"I wouldn't worry. I mean, I only guessed 'cause I didn't realize how close you were with that girl. I'm sure the rest of them just assumed you were so down 'cause she died."

Kristen hopped back onto the file cabinet in front of Max, and turned to face her.

"Plus, nobody else really looked into the news like I did. I prolly went a bit overboard googling that fucking creep. I mean, I get it if that doesn't make you feel better, but I think you're safe."

"I don't _feel_ safe."

As soon the words left her lips she realized how Kristen would take them, and wished she'd phrased it differently. She couldn't take them back, unless she wanted Kristen to be even more worried. And it wasn't even that they weren't _true_ in that sense, just overwhelmed by mountains of other trauma that she couldn't even begin to talk about.

Kristen seemed to notice how annoyed Max was at herself, even if she couldn't have guessed the real reason. She leaned over and rested a comforting hand on Max's shoulder. "That's okay. What he did to you was awful beyond words. It's natural to feel violated or hurt or scared or angry or all sorts of things. But you'll always be safe with me."

"Yeah, I know. I mean, I _know_ that, but sometimes I don't _feel_ it, not exactly. Like, I know he's in jail, but... stuff happened that I still don't understand, maybe never will." Max couldn't have explained why she was opening up like this, but it felt as right and natural as anything had in the past months.

"Like, why he picked you?"

"No. Like... remember how you always said there was something more to the universe than just the normal laws of physics and stuff, and I said no way? Well I never thought I'd be saying this, but you were right."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

Kristen leaned in for a hug that Max wasn't sure she needed, but accepted anyways. "What can I do?" Kristen asked.

"Huh?"

"I wanna support you. Make you feel safe. Help you heal. I just don't know how to, or whether you even want my help."

Max hesitated, enjoying the warmth of Kristen's arms around her, genuinely not sure how to answer the question.

"Like, I could be comforting and mom-ish or angry for you, or just try and treat you like it didn't happen or..."

Max gently worked her way out of Kristen's embrace and walked the few feet back to the paint tray.

"I think I just need you to be you. Like you're doing now."

She picked her paint roller up and motioned for Kristen to join her.

"You sure? Like... you don't have to pretend to be strong for my sake."

"Yeah, I'm sure. I mean, I'm still me," Max said. "Just, you know, a little different."

Kristen touched her roller to the wall and smiled as she started painting again. "You'll always be you, Max. All the trauma in the world couldn't change that."

_More like 'didn't' _, Max thought sardonically as she put roller to wall and started painting again.__

__But all that could wait for another conversation, another time. "Yeah. Hey, have you ever seen anything by Kristal Brenner?"_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to _Lights_ and to me!
> 
> It's been a full year since I published the first chapter, and I'm amazed at how far it's come, how long it's gotten, and how much my writing has improved. I'm also amazed at all the positive feedback I've gotten; it really helps keep me going. Here's to another year (just kidding, I hope to finish way sooner than that).
> 
> Thanks!


	57. Route 101

  
"Hello, Mr. Caulfield!"

Her father extended his hand towards Victoria for a firm shake despite the early morning chill, and the frost that covered their front lawn.

"Oh, please. Ryan."

Even though he seemed to accept Max's claim that they were 'just friends', even though she'd done her best to pretend she'd had a perfectly nice and uneventful time at the party, Dad still wanted to meet Victoria. Max would've rather simply jumped in and drove off, waving goodbye out the window, but he'd insisted on playing papa bear.

So Victoria's gleaming maroon Miata was double parked in front of the Caulfield residence, and she stood on the sidewalk next to Max and her father as it's hazards blinked on and off. Victoria's skirt was longer than when she'd met Max at the train station, but she had on that same houndstooth jacket again, and of course her hair and makeup were done as perfectly as ever. If there was anything Victoria could do well, it was make a good impression.

The best that could be said of Max was that she wasn't currently wearing Jeggings.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ryan."

"So, how did you know my Max?"

Victoria was _also_ wearing the same charming smile Max had seen her sport while talking to teachers, or greeting artists at the Chase Space. "We're in the same Photography class, and I've always enjoyed her work."

Luckily for Victoria, Max stood beside her dad, otherwise he would have seen the smirk that flickered across her face. _Always enjoyed my... Wow. Her bullshit game is amazing_. 

"After a while I finally got up the courage to talk to her, and she's helped me a bit with my schoolwork. And we had a great time together last week for lunch, and at the party. She's really very sweet; you've raised a _wonderful_ daughter."

"Well thank you, Miss Chase. And thank you for offering to drive her back."

"Victoria is fine. And it was no trouble really. It gets boring driving that whole way all by myself."

"Which way are you taking?"

"I was gonna go down I-5 then take 6 across the state forest, like I usually do."

"That'll make you hit Portland right around noon, and I always run into weird traffic right around then. Maybe take 101 instead?"

Victoria considered the suggestion. "I've done that a few times. It'll probably still be a few minutes longer, even if the traffic is bad around Portland but the view's way nicer."

"It's a good day for that. You might even have a chance to put the top down."

Max looked up to the cloudless sky. It was indeed; about as nice as you could get for early January. She kept her jacket buttoned for now, but it wasn't even nine, and the sun beat down with the promise of an afternoon that might even be pleasant. Except that Max would be spending it sitting a foot away from Victoria, right after she ruined everything.

But now was not the time to be uncomfortable. _Not while Dad's right here_. There'd be plenty of time for that later. So she gave him the biggest, tightest hug she could manage without breaking anything, and bid him farewell as they hauled Max's suitcase to the trunk, then climbed into the seats.

"Bye Mr. Caulfield!" Victoria shouted through the open passenger window, and then they were off.

* * *

Much to Max's relief, Victoria cranked up the radio as soon as they were away from the house. The station wasn't even that bad of a choice, some university radio or other, but really Max would have taken Easy Listening as long as she didn't have to sit in silence with Victoria for five hours.

**Dad:** She's really quite the charmer.

**Max:** Yep

**Dad:** Snazzy car too.

**Max:** What were you expecting, a Subaru? :-P

**Max:** Don't get too excited though. It's an automatic.

**Dad:** That's a shame.

**Dad:** Thanks for indulging me. I hope I didn't embarass you too much.

**Max:** Nope, just the right amount. :)

**Dad:** That's my girl. Stay safe!

Max couldn't help but wonder, _From what?_

**Mom:** Sorry I couldn't be home to send you off!

**Mom:** I hope you have a safe trip, and a wonderful new year!

That was a sappier text than Mom sent the first time she left for Arcadia Bay. _Empty nest syndrome maybe?_

Texting with friends kept her occupied for a while, then news and Instagram, but as they drove through Olympia the songs on the radio were cut with moments of static, and both that and Max's cell reception cut off completely just as they passed Capitol State Forest. There were a few games installed, but after an hour of that her battery was running dangerously low. She'd have to ask if there was a charger somewhere. But first...

"I'm sorry," Max finally said.

"W-What for?"

Of all the reactions Max had expected from Victoria, confusion hadn't even occurred to her. But that was what Max got.

"I messed things up."

" _What_ things?"

"I mean at the party!"

"What? No... there was nothing wrong with what you did. Just with me."

"You were trying to be romantic and I ruined it."

"Stop trying to make excuses for me. I don't deserve it."

"What are you talking about?"

"For what I did to you."

"You just tried to kiss me, it's no big deal. I mean, it is a big deal, but it's.... what the hell are you talking about?"

"How much did you have to drink?"

"At the party? Just a glass or two." _Or three, but who's counting._ "Look, why do you even care?"

"I shouldn't have tried to kiss you. You were drunk and you didn't want it anyways."

"No, I just wasn't expecting it."

"No need to spare my feelings."

"Really. I was just counting down and then suddenly you're right there and I lost my balance cause of the heels. I just thought you were mad at me for ruining the moment. I didn't hurt you, did I, when I shoved you?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Then what's your damage?"

Victoria stayed silent for a handful of painful seconds before finally choking out a response; not an answer but a question of her own:

"You wanna guess the last person I kissed?"

Max dug around before remembering she _did_ , in fact, know the name of one of Victoria's exs. "Maiko?"

"Kate."

"Wha-" Then it clicked. "...Fuck."

"She was doped out of her mind getting passed from one guy to the next, and the only reason I stopped filming was so that I could have a go. I was pretty high too, but I still remember it perfectly. It was fun at first. God I can't believe I said that but yeah, I enjoyed it. 'Til she started squirming, trying to get away. Then I felt a little sick."

"Fuck" was all Max could think to say. _'Something worse' than the video, isn't that what Kate said? Holy shit she wasn't kidding._

"I mean, people get weird about whether you should use the word 'rape' or not but that's basically what I did. I took advantage of her. I... _sexually assaulted_ her." The last few words seemed to require particular effort to force from Victoria's throat.

"Then I try for some big romantic gesture at the stroke of midnight and you pull away and I'm freaking, cause I just did it again. And I pushed you into coming in the first place and I just keep shoving myself where I'm not wanted."

"No, you're not-"

"It's exactly what I've been doing." Victoria's knuckles were white as paper on the steering wheel. "I cornered you after class to apologize, just cause I wanted to feel better about myself. Then I invaded your room with some flimsy excuse to talk to you, and guilted you into the party. Hell, the only reason you're in this car is 'cause there were no more bus tickets. Only time you ever came to me is when you ran out of weed."

"That's not true. I..." Remembering why took a minute. "I could've left you by the bleachers. Or just dumped you on your bed and went back to watching the game."

"Congratulations, you're a decent human being. Doesn't give me the right to kiss you."

"But I wanted to! I mean, seriously, I practically told you to look up my dress that night, you think I would've minded a kiss? I just... I was all focused on the fireworks and you took me by surprise, and those heels... I tried to find you after to say sorry and I couldn't. I thought you were too pissed to even talk to me."

"Even if you wanted to, you were too drunk for it to be okay. Just like Kate."

"No, I was fine, I..." _Why do I keep fucking things up?_

Max took a deep breath and did the only thing she could think of to fix it.

She kissed Victoria.

Or tried to. The moment before their lips touched Victoria slammed on the brakes, and the only thing that saved Max from being brained on the steering wheel was the fact that she also shoved Max back towards the passenger side with her free hand.

"Jesus fuck!"

"Sorry!"

Gravel rumbled under the tires as they came to a halt on the margin.

"You trying to get us killed!?"

"No! I just... I like you. Like, _like_ like you. And I wanted to show you. You didn't trick me or pressure me into that. Give me at least _some_ credit."

"Okay. Holy shit, I mean..." Victoria put the Miata back in gear and pulled cautiously back onto the highway. "I appreciate the gesture, but not while I'm fucking driving. Jesus!"

"Yeah. Sorry. Maybe you could pull over again?"

"After what I just admitted, you still want to."

"I do."

"Maybe later? I've got, like, emotional whiplash from this whole thing."

"And actual whiplash? Sorry."

Victoria rolled her eyes, but she couldn't conceal the hints of a smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

After a few minutes of less-uncomfortable silence, Victoria motioned to the audio cable sticking out of the dashboard. "Could you put something on?"

"Nope. My reception out here is shit."

Victoria took on the exaggerated voice of a stereotypical grumpy old man. "You kids and your 'cloud' this and 'streaming' that. Don't know the joys of actually owning MP3 files nowadays."

"I own CDs. But they're a bit inconvenient to take with me."

"Really? I always thought you'd be a vinyl girl."

"No, that's my dad. He was so ridiculous about it I vowed to never own a record player."

"Well, _my_ music is all on a really old iPod in the center console, just find something on that."

There was indeed, an iPod so old it had a click wheel.

"I didn't think they made these any more," Max said as she picked it up and browsed through it. It took only a few minutes to realize that Victoria had the strangest music collection she'd ever seen. She'd never heard a single note played from Victoria's room, but there was enough music on this tiny thing to keep a stereo occupied for weeks. An alphabetical listing of artists put Enya right between Eminem and Epica, and a view by year revealed music from every decade of the recording industry's exsistence. Most of the artists in 'Recently Played' Max had never even heard of, although with names like "Nightwish" and "Apocalyptica" she could guess what they probably sounded like. After a few minutes she gave up trying to decide and hit 'shuffle all'.

The first track opened with drums, heavy on the reverb, which were joined by a guitar that sounded vaguely Latin American.

Victoria seemed unenthused with the random selection. "Maybe not Jesse Cook? I mean it's great and all but not exactly road trip music."

So Max hit Next, and was blasted by some bizarre alchemical combination of bubblegum pop and Speed Metal that, according to the iPod screen, was by 'BABYMETAL'. Victoria tapped a button on the steering wheel to crank the volume up.

It took Max embarrassingly long to realize that the lyrics were mostly Japanese, but when she looked closely she swore she saw Victoria mouthing the words along with the stereo. 

Next was some kind of dramatic orchestral piece that sounded right out of a trailer for some action movie, followed by yet another heavy metal thing. Victoria was too busy to notice Max's incredulous look, or her face lighting up with glee as she scrolling through the tiny device again trying to find something--anything--better than this.

The next track Max selected specially, hitting play just as the last one ended to make it sound like it was just the next song in the shuffle. It opened with the voice of a familiar pirate, asking a question that Max knew the answer to all too well:

"OOOOOoooooooh. Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?"

She was halfway through shouting out the answer when Victoria smacked the power button, face red as a beet.

Max did her best sad-puppy-eyes in Victoria's direction.

Victoria was not moved. Or at least tried not to be.

"If you tell anyone about this I swear to god I'll have your head on a pike in front of the dorms." She made a valiant effort keeping a straight face, but after a few snorts, and some very strange expressions, Victoria finally burst out laughing.

"Fuck, I didn't even know I had that!"

"It was right under 'Various Artists' in 'Soundtracks'."

"Wait, that was _on purpose_? You asshole!"

"What, you'd rather listen to Babymetal again?"

"Yes!"

"Too bad. How about some of ABBA's greatest hits?"

"Figures. I hand you my music for like two minutes and you find the absolute fucking craziest shit ever. It's probably from my cousin, I copied all his MP3s into my folder like five years ago."

"I'm not buying that. You recognized it way too fast."

"I've seen the show a few times. Not like I like it or anything."

"Come on, he's hilarious! Or maybe..." Max delved deeper into the depts of Victoria Chase's odd musical tastes. "Some Rebecca Black?" 

"Just put it away." Gripping the steering wheel and staring ahead at the road, Victoria looked genuinely uncomfortable now.

_Shit, too far._

"Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry, I shouldn't make fun. And some of this stuff is actually pretty cool."

"Whatever. I just... I shouldn't be so sensitive."

"Maybe sometime I'll show you my Spotify history."

"I'm sure it's just full of, like, hipster shit."

"Not if you go back a few years. Let's just say around fourteen I was a big fan of a certain Canadian YouTube artist with terrible hair."

Max watched and waited for Victoria to connect the description with... _yep._

"No fucking way! You're shitting me."

"You'd better _belieb_ it." It was sort of true, although Max would have made it up if she'd thought it would help Victoria feel better. "I can sing 'Baby' for you if you want proof."

"Don't you dare. Just... go back to shuffle?"

"Sure you don't want to listen to ABBA? That'd be pretty awesome road trip music and I actually like them, for cereal." Max watched Victoria closely for an eye-roll, and wasn't disappointed.

"Okay, sure. Just the hits album. Then I get to pick something."

"Deal. Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"You'll pretend I'm not here, and pick what you _really_ want to listen to."

It was a simple enough request, but you wouldn't have known that from Victoria's reaction. _Jeez, you'd think I asked her her deepest darkest secret or something._

Victoria finally took a deep breath and accepted the terms. "Fine. Maybe..."

"Don't make me pry it from you." A gentle tease, paired with a smile.

"It's pretty ridiculous, but it's been running through my head ever since I saw a Simpsons meme yesterday. I... just find a song called 'Wishmaster', you'll see what I mean."

"Sure. But first..." Max tapped the button on the dash to turn the stereo back on, and started the album as they sped toward the coast and Arcadia Bay.

_If you change your mind, I'm the first in line_

_Honey I'm still free_

_Take a chance on me_

_If you need me, let me know, gonna be around_

_If you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that I don't enjoy indie music, but sometimes I think I'd prefer Victoria's music collection over Max's. Also, I never thought listening to MP3 files would make me an old fart, but things seem to be headed in that direction.


	58. Return

  
The Oregon Coast Highway traced the gentle curves of the coastline ahead of Max. To her left, green hills rolled up and down; to her right, clumps of trees or houses flew past, with frequent gaps that revealed the waves of the open ocean crashing against rocky beaches.

And next to her, Victoria drove confidently, her left arm resting on the edge of her door and guiding them lazily over bridges and around cliffs. Max's father had been right: even with the windows cracked the sun warmed the coupe's tiny passenger compartment, and their jackets now lay in the thin sliver of space behind their seats.

Apocalyptica turned out to be less scary-sounding than Max had expected, and the mental image of men in leather, spinning their heavy metal hair while rocking out on cellos added an extra layer of enjoyment. She'd already written a text recommending them, ready to send to Fernando the moment she got signal back.

The Miata was an automatic, so Victoria's other hand generally rested on the console in between them, tapping occasionally with the beat. Every so often Max reached over towards it and gave it a gentle squeeze, and each time she did she could see Victoria's smile brighten, just a touch.

A few times Max had considered turning the music off to try and have a conversation, but the only topics that she could think of might kill the mood. So the music played and the tiny car sped down the coast.

As soon as they were back range of a cell phone tower Max's phone buzzed with a half-dozen delayed texts.

**Mom:** Text me when you get there. XOXOXO MOM

**Alicia:** My poetry slam went great!

**Alicia:** Sorry you had to miss it

**Alicia:** It ended up being mostly improv

**Fernando:** Glad we got to rock out! Good luck with school and everything!

Max chuckled quietly to herself. _Two weeks later and he's still going on about that._ It hadn't been unpleasant, but he'd enjoyed it a lot more than Max had.

**Fernando:** We should keep in touch better

She sent the draft about Apocalyptica to Ferdie right away, then answered Alicia's text.

**Max:** Yeah I'm sorry too

_If by 'sorry' you mean 'relieved'._ Alicia was generally better off sticking to environmental engineering, and leaving the art to Kristen.

**Max:** I'm sure it was awesome

**Max:** At least we got to do the Living Computers thing and your new kite. Did you ever find it?

**Max:** Also, did you get a chance to look at the portfolio link I sent you?

After a minute with no response she figured Alicia must have gone on to do something else, and went down to the next entry in her list.

**Max:** Hey Kris

**Max:** So

**Max:** :)

**Kristen:** You two make up?

**Max:** Yep

**Kristen:** All a big misunderstanding?

**Max:** Yep

**Kristen:** Now kiss

**Max:** Yep

They still hadn't, actually, but the truth was a bit too complicated to send back in a text. _We will._ Max was sure of that. Determined, even.

**Max:** You all moved yet?

**Kristen:** We're carrying the last of the boxes into the van right now. Gonna be hell to unpack but at least we can take our time for that.

**Max:** Sorry I couldn't help.

**Kristen:** No worries. How are you doing?

It was touching how concerned Kristen was being. _Just as long as she doesn't make a habit of it._

**Max:** I'm happy

It was true. Cruising down the Oregon Coast Highway with a cute girlfriend at her side was apparently just the thing to let stress bleed away.

Until the scenery started getting familiar.

The first thing she recognized was Bertie's Diesel Distributors, a frequent stop for her father back when they'd lived in Arcadia Bay. Her moment of pleasant nostalgia lasted just a few seconds before she realized what it meant. In less than twenty minutes they'd be arriving in the Blackwell parking lot.

More memories trickled in as they got closer: a tree that grew sideways out of the cliff above them, a signpost where they'd always turned off to visit Grandma.

Then the lighthouse.

Max hit stop right in the middle of a song and stuffed the iPod back into the center console. "I wish I didn't have to go back," she groused.

"Yeah, I know. I _still_ have shit to make up."

"It isn't that." With Max's tone of voice there could be no mistaking what it _was_.

"...Oh."

The feeling got worse as they got closer, and Max briefly imagined Blackwell being guarded by swarms of dementors as she caught the first glimpse of it on the hillside. The only clouds they'd seen the entire day just so happened to be right over it, casting shadows around it, and giving Max chills until the buildings of Arcadia Bay blocked it all from view. _Like the universe has a flair for the fucking dramatic._

She reached for Victoria's hand and gave it a squeeze. Tori squeezed back, firmly, and drove one-handed for as long as she could manage.

The road to the parking lot took them past the football field and the main building, as if to give Max a preview of the darkness to come, and she could feel them looming over her from the other side of the window glass, until the tip of the main tower disappeared from sight behind the athletic building.

Victoria pulled the Miata into a parking spot at the far end of the lot and finally reclaimed her hand to put it into Park.

"Holy shit, Max," she said as she looked at the deep red marks in her palm. "You okay?"

"Oh god, I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

"I asked you first."

They looked at each other and both chuckled sadly.

"God we make such a fucked up couple," Max finally said.

"So we're a couple now?" Victoria shot back, with just a hint of relief behind her eyes.

"We're _something_. I mean, I like you. I think you're really pretty. And when you're sad I just wanna hold you and make things better, like you do for me."

"Wow. I didn't know you had a romantic side."

"Me either? I haven't really... done much."

"I kinda figured. You've got this thing about you that just screams 'virgin', like when I... Shit, sorry. You got this moment going on and I keep fucking it up, don't I."

Max took Victoria's hand--gently this time--and drew it to her lips as an answer.

Victoria glanced past Max and out the window briefly, then unbuckled her seatbelt and fixed her gaze on Max. _She has brown eyes_ , Max realized for the first time since she'd seen them, peering through box of poster tubes carried down the hall on move-in day.

Now Max was mere inches from those eyes, and the rest of Victoria, and it didn't take words for her to know what came next. Victoria leaned toward her with a kind of gentleness that took Max by surprise; it was hard to even imagine that this girl was the same one she'd spent months being at turns angry at and afraid of. Closing her eyes seemed like the thing to do, and so Max did, just in time to get the full effect of the perfume Victoria was wearing; clean, sharp, and powerful.

Then, for just a few brief, delectable moments, their lips touched, soft and sweet and the most perfect thing in the world; Max felt Victoria's hand brush gently against the back of her head, fingers running through her hair and filling her with a kind of electricity that accentuated the gentle kiss.

Max could have stayed like that forever, lips locked with Victoria's until the heat death of the universe, but somehow it ended at just the right time, just when Max needed to breathe again and enjoy the afterglow. It took a moment before she could manage words.

"That was really good."

She probably could have managed _romantic_ words given a bit more time, but Victoria didn't care.

"It was."

Max broke into a broad grin. "I guess the third time's the charm, huh?"

They shared in a laugh that, for a moment, cut through the gloom that Max--and probably Victoria too--felt permeating the campus. But it couldn't last forever, and Max soon found herself walking down the sidewalk toward the quad, her dad's old green suitcase in one hand and Victoria's hand in the other. She did her best not to dig fingernails in but still squeezed tightly as they passed the statue, and the front steps of the main building, and especially the spot on the sidewalk where Kate's body had lain.

After climbing the stairs to their floor they clasped hands again, but a few feet later Victoria pulled hers away, and they walked past Dana's open door as two. The absence of the hand was disappointing, but nowhere near as much as realizing what it must mean, as Victoria dug in her clutch for her key.

"What the hell was _that_?" Max asked as soon as they were in the privacy of Victoria's room. She hadn't been planning on sounding accusatory, but after it came out that way she didn't waver.

"Sorry, I just... I'm not ready. Not yet. Not here, with so much shit going on. You understand, right?"

"It's an art school in Oregon. You said so yourself, nobody'll care!"

"Look, there's so much shit I can't control right now, okay. My parents are on my ass and there's college shit and all the visions and nightmares. Just... just gimme this one thing. Please?"

Max answered grudgingly. "Okay, fine. We don't have to go public now. But soon?"

"Yeah. When we're both ready."

"Yeah," Max answered, and forced a smile.

_Wonder when the hell that'll be._ But Victoria sure did have a lot to deal with. So did Max for that matter, and however confident she was that nobody at Blackwell would take issue with it, coming out would be one more thing that she didn't need. And after reassuring her anxious parents that Victoria was _not_ her girlfriend, she should probably wait a little while before she reversed course.

Max looked down at Victoria's feet, and realized that this was the first time she'd seen her wearing anything but high heels. "I should probably go now. I got some stuff to work on before class starts." 

"Yeah, I have a shit-ton to catch up on too. We'll see each other tomorrow though, right?"

"Sure."

As a goodbye, Max gave Victoria a gentle peck on the lips, and another halfhearted smile before backing out the door and closing it behind her.

Back in her own room, the first thing that she unpacked was her laptop, and the charger for it. The rest could wait for some other day, and the suitcase sat on the floor as she crawled into bed and brought up Netflix. After a while hemming and hawing over what she should watch she stumbled across the 'watch again' category. She clicked Play to bring up an episode of House she didn't remember all that much, and that occupied her for the rest of her evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How romantic!
> 
> I managed a post last week in spite of Thanksgiving, but I think I'll be skipping the week of Christmas to relax and build up my buffer a bit more.


	59. Doctor

_It wouldn't be so bad,_ Max thought as she awoke for the third time that morning, _if I just never woke up._ Now it was 10AM and pulling the covers over her head and sleeping till 10PM--or maybe forever--didn't sound that unappealing.

At least this time it wasn't in a cold sweat, with heart racing and vivid dreams fading not nearly fast enough. After two weeks in Seattle she'd forgotten how bad the nightmares could get, but that night they'd returned with a twisted vengeance, flashes of the End of the World party and the end of the world, and _Oh god she was drugged and I was kissing her_. She could have done without remembering that part.

Deep breath.

_Just a dream._

She kicked the covers off and reached down the side of the bed where she'd left her laptop as she drifted off the previous night. Her jeans were wrinkled from sleeping in, and dug into her waist as she sat up against the headboard, but her comfier pajamas were still packed in the luggage on the floor, and it seemed like too much effort even to reach down to retrieve them, let alone change. _Not like anyone would care anyways_ , she thought as she undid the button to give her waist some breathing room, then opened the laptop, starting right where she'd left off the previous night.

Three episodes in her phone buzzed on the nightstand beside her. She picked it up, surprised that the battery wasn't dead from being left unplugged overnight, and saw a new text message.

 **Kate:** Are you back at Blackwell yet?

Talking with Kate would certainly cheer her back up. Max wasn't in the mood to be cheered up.

 **Kate:** I just got back, and I'm almost done unpacking.

As she pondered whether she even wanted to respond, another text came in.

 **Kate:** I'd really like to have tea and catch up before classes start tomorrow.

 **Kate:** When can you stop over?

Apparently there'd be no avoiding her.

 **Max:** I got in yesterday.

 **Max:** How about we do lunch?

 _Might as well kill two birds with one stone,_ Max thought as she recalled the bagel she'd had for breakfast the previous morning, her only meal for the past 24 hours.

 **Kate:** Sure. Where do you want to eat?

 **Max:** Caf is fine. I can be ready in half an hour.

Without any food in her belly, Max had to draw on sheer willpower to drag herself out of bed and into cleaner clothing.

 **Kate:** Great! Just knock on my door whenever you're ready.

Max was abbout to text back 'Sure' when she realized what walking to the cafeteria with Kate would mean.

There was no way to get there without going through the main hallway again, past that bathroom, and Max's stomach sank just from the thought of walking by it again. When it was an unavoidable daily fixture it was easy to steel herself for it, but returning after so long...

It'd be nice to have Kate with her, but she would probably end up scaring the poor girl, and besides... _I should be able to handle it on my own_.

 **Max:** We can just meet there.

 **Max:** I have to stop by the library anyways.

She had to do no such thing.

* * *

The last few bites of really dry chicken breast sat on Max's tray, next to half of a flavorless roll and the dregs of an iceberg salad that was made barely edible by drenching in Ranch dressing. The cafeteria options were always a bit disappointing, but apparently they were even more so on the days before classes started, and the contrast with her family's cooking couldn't have been more conspicuous. _There's not even any dessert._

She looked up from her meal frequently; each time all she saw was two other students and a lunch lady who'd been too preoccupied with her phone to notice Max's shaky hold of her tray and heavy, uneven breathing as she picked up her food. The student at the table by the windows was Stella, and Max didn't feel any particular need to talk to her. The other one was a black boy in a booth and facing away from her, unidentifiable from Max's angle but given how few minorities there were at Blackwell Hayden wouldn't be a terrible guess. No need to talk to him either.

In between drawn-out bites she had a fleeting thought of Victoria walking through the door, grasping her hand, being unashamed to kiss her in public. Reality stubbornly failed to match her fantasy, and Max sat alone, browsing cat pictures on her phone to pass the time.

Finally Kate wandered in the door, sporting a new hairdo but otherwise the same sweet Christian girl Max remembered, in the same dress to boot.

She didn't notice Max in the corner until she had made her way through the deserted lunch line, picking up soup, a sandwich, and a mug of hot water, to which she added a teabag from her purse. Her face lit up when she saw Max, and Max did her best to return the expression, managing at least to look happy to see Kate, if not happy in general.

"You got a haircut!" Max said as Kate set her tray down, then leaned over give Max a hug. Her dirty blond hair, now freed from the bun for the first time that Max had ever witnessed, draped over Max's shoulder and around her arm.

"Not _cut_ , I'm just trying something new with it."

"It looks really good." Max would have said that even if Kate was sporting a mullet, but the long hair really did work nicely on Kate, accenting her face and shoulders in a way that was quite attractive. It'd be a faux pas to tell Kate that it looked way _better_ than her old bun, but Max couldn't help but think it.

Kate shrugged and smiled. "I just felt like I needed to make a change. I see you did too."

Max stared ahead dumbly.

"Your hair?" Kate prompted.

"Oh, right! Yeah, I got a little trim."

Kat sat down gracefully in the seat next to Max. "Highlights too?"

"Yeah, it was all for that New Years party thing I got invited to."

"You mentioned that over the phone. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, it was great."

"I meant to ask, what gallery was it at?"

"The Chase Space?" Max said hesitantly.

Kate's eyes narrowed. "As in, Victoria Chase?"

"Yeah." Max could suddenly picture Victoria, and what she'd done to Kate, and shook her head to clear it. "She invited me. She said it would be a great chance to network and make friends with artists and stuff."

"Was it?"

"Yeah. I met a few of my favorite artists, and some really amazing ones I hadn't even heard of."

"What about her?"

"What _about_ her?"

"Was she mean or anything?"

"No, she was..." Max caught herself and did her best not to sound wistful or starry-eyed, lest she tip Kate off. It wasn't too hard.

"...she was helpful. Like, she got me some shoes for the party, and offered to drive me back to Blackwell."

"That's good." Kate paused to take a spoonful of her soup, then spoke again. "Max... do you have a _thing_ for Victoria?"

"No, I-" She cut herself off mid-lie. "Maybe a little? I'm trying to keep it... you know..."

"Platonic?"

"Yeah. I mean... I told you she was having visions, right?"

"You did. Did she finally tell you about them?"

Max nodded, and swallowed another unappealingly dry bite of chicken. "She just keeps seeing herself in the dark room, over and over again. I feel so bad for her; I'm trying to help her through them."

"That's noble of you Max. I don't know if I could do that."

"I don't blame you," Max agreed. "After what she did..." Max pushed the image out of her head again. "She finally told me about it. It's awful but she really is sorry. You should give her a chance."

"I'm not surprised she's sorry, now that she knows what it feels like."

"She's not a bad person. Her parents are a piece of work but she's learning how to treat people better. Just give her a chance."

"I'm not talking to her Max." Kate took the teabag out of her hot water and dropped it on her plate. "I'm sorry, I was hoping this would be a nice chat."

"No, it's my fault," Max said. "I shouldn't have brought up Victoria."

"It wasn't you." Kate took another bite of her grilled cheese and reached for a different topic. "How was the rest of your vacation?"

"I spent a lot of time with my friends, and that was really nice. I almost forgot how much I missed them. How about you?"

"I managed to escape my family for a while at least, and spend some nice relaxing time drawing. Oh, and I got into CalArts and Indiana."

"Oh, that's great! I haven't heard back from anywhere yet. I applied everywhere just before Christmas, so it's still a bit early. Did you decide yet?"

"Not yet. I'm still waiting to hear back from San Francisco College of the Arts and Temple."

"Hey, I applied to San Fran too. Did you know Dr. Leigh taught there?"

"No, I didn't. But I haven't really met him yet; I've just seen him in the halls."

"He's nice. He was really understanding when I had that flashback, and he's the one who had the dorm renamed."

"That makes sense. Maybe he can put in a good word for us," Kate said, with a smile that hinted she was at least partly joking.

Max smiled back. "Maybe. It'd be nice to know I have a sure shot for at least one place."

"Where else did you apply?"

"UCLA, SAIC, RIT, and a few other places." Max couldn't even _remember_ some of them, let alone describe why she applied, and she silently hoped Kate didn't ask for specifics.

"I'm sure you'll have your pick. You might even get a few scholarships. I applied for the Christian Fellows in the Arts program, but that only covers Christian colleges and I'm not sure that's what I want."

Thanks to her early start, Max was basically finished with her lunch already, while Kate had only taken a few bites of grilled cheese. In spite of how much Max had tried to draw each bite out to fill time, she finally found herself dragging one last piece of lettuce through the puddle of leftover dressing, back and forth, until she realized being done might get her out of this conversation and back to her dorm sooner.

"Sorry," Max said as she put the last bit in her mouth. "I got some homework to do before tomorrow. English."

Kate's face fell, and she stood up to give Max a goodbye hug. "Text me then. Okay?"

"Sure. Yeah, definitely."

* * *

After watching a dozen episodes that she'd seen before, Max finally screwed up the courage to watch one she hadn't: the next episode of Doctor Who. Based on the preview, there was no last minute time bending coming to save Clara from her horrible death at the end of the last episode, just the kind of grief that Max was all too familiar with. It would have been easy to just skip to the next episode, but that felt like admitting defeat, and that was somehow worse than just giving up on the series entirely.

So she pressed play, and for the first few moments of the episode she almost managed to hope that the episode would be as distracting as the others; there was even a monster for the Doctor to defeat.

But then there was a portrait of Clara, and what the episode was _actually_ about became clear enough. It wasn't long before one of the Doctor's lines touched a nerve:

"It's funny. The day you lose someone isn't the worst. At least you've got something to do. It's all the days they stay dead."

The rest of the episode might as well have been a car commercial for all the attention Max paid. When the next one started playing automatically she simply shut her laptop and sat, playing every moment of the last three months over and over in her mind, along with those words, too numb to fully process it all, but feeling their weight anyways.

An entire lifetime of days where Chloe is still dead stretched before her. That was what she saw when she thought about her future; not college, or work, or meeting someone and growing old together. A life full of grief, and dealing with it alone, no matter what Victoria or Kate might promise.

And so she was alone when she slid into her rainbow jacket and trudged up the stairs.

Warm sunny days made for bitter cold nights, and she hugged her coat tightly around her as she looked at the lights again, slowly turning on as the last few hints of twilight faded into blackness. It had been a long time since she was last up there on the roof, and she took some small comfort in that fact, that maybe things were getting better, that maybe _she_ was getting better. Or maybe the weather was just getting colder.

Much colder, in fact, and after a few minutes she was deeply chilled, shivering despite her heavy jacket. As the wind picked up she realized she would have to get down from the rooftop soon.

She took the stairs at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the 100,000 word mark, a special chapter, one that I've been planning for a while.
> 
> If I'd watched that Doctor Who episode before I started this work, it would probably have been titled "The days she's still gone" instead of 'Lights of Arcadia Bay' (and if I make this part of a larger series it'll definitely be the title of that). If a work of fiction can have a thesis statement, that quote would be a pretty good one for this piece. 
> 
> I mentioned that there were 'thematic reasons' for the way I was writing this series, releasing on a weekly basis, with smaller updates than many other fics. Those reasons tie into this quote: Once all the dramatic stuff is over with, healing and moving on and just plain living is a long and slow process that a 7-minute ending sequence, no matter how moving, can't capture. And poor Max has an awful lot of that to do, in the Bay ending especially. If I've done my job right, this work portrays that healing process in a way that's realistic and moving, and shows the many aspects of loss--remembering, forgetting, ups, downs, and the rest of life that keeps on going--and Max getting through them.


	60. Welcome

Walking into class on a Monday morning was bad enough, but after two weeks of vacation having History as the first class of the week was just rubbing it in.

Max expected the rest of the class to be just as silent and miserable as she was, probably nursing holiday hangovers, or half asleep from jet lag or shifted sleep schedules. Instead there were whispered conversations and furtive glances passing around the room as she walked in and took her seat. She leaned over her desk to ask Alyssa what was going on.

"I just got a text from Dana. She said Mark Jefferson died."

"What!?" Max's voice cut through the quiet classroom and she lowered it self-consciously and repeated in a whisper: "What?"

"Yeah, there was some kind of fight with the other inmates and they killed him."

"Holy shit. How did-"

"That's all I know, Max. Dana didn't know anything else either, she just heard it in a text from one of the AB High cheerleaders."

The news hit like a massive iceberg, and any hope of paying attention in class sank posthaste. There was nothing online yet, and each glance Max stole at her phone gave no further information.

The halls echoed with loud, uninformed speculation and wild theories: Mr. Jefferson joined the Aryan Brotherhood and got shanked by a rival gang, or maybe his cellmate simply got sick of him and wanted a new punching bag. There were even whispers that the guards watched the beating and cheered it on, and as much as Max didn't like the idea in theory she could hardly blame them. Not like she'd done any different.

It wasn't until most of the way through Algebra that official confirmation came.

``  
**Mark Jefferson Dead in Prison Assault**  
Arcadia Bay, OR: 

` Mark Jefferson, world-renowned photographer and former teacher at Blackwell Academy, was killed this morning in an incident shortly after his transfer to Tillamook County Prison. Jefferson was being held awaiting trial for two counts of felony murder, seven drug charges, and 53 counts of aggravated assault, kidnapping, and administration of a noxious substance, for allegedly drugging over four dozen young women, many of them Blackwell students, and using them as unwilling subjects of his photography.`

`"At approximately 9:30 last night, Mark Jefferson was involved in an altercation with other inmates in which he sustained substantial lacerations, blunt force trauma, fractures, and internal injuries," Warden Alexander Kenner said in a pre-written press statement. "He was taken to the prison's medical facility where he was pronounced dead at 11:45. No other injuries were reported."`

`When asked why Jefferson was not in protective custody, Kenner said that there would be an investigation into the incident, and declined further comment.`

`Former students recalled Jefferson's-  
`

"Miss Caulfield? Is there something on that phone you'd like to share with us?" Mrs. Newton's question was rhetorical and rather irritated, but after a moment of reflexive shame for being caught on her cell in class, Max answered.

"Actually, yeah. Mark Jefferson died in jail."

"What? Where did you hear that?"

"It's on the news. He was beaten to death by the other prisoners."

"Oh... okay. Do you need to be excused?"

Max had heard that sentence before. Usually it just meant 'stop disrupting class' but not this time.

After a few seconds of consideration Max conceded anyways. "No. I guess not."

_Better here than alone._

Mrs. Newton turned back to the whiteboard and held the marker to it for a few seconds before lowering it.

"I knew him. And I never would have imagined he could have done such..." She shook her head. "I was shocked. And Rachel and Chloe were such bright students. They deserved justice, but this... I don't know."

She finished the rest of the problem in a silence that consumed the classroom, noticeably different from the usual respectful quiet of students learning, and didn't even bother to give the usual assignment as the students gathered their things for the next class.

* * *

Through all of photography, Max was haunted by images of Mark Jefferson's death.

Maybe 'haunted' wasn't quite the right word. She knew she shouldn't _enjoy_ thoughts of him being pummeled to death by burly inmates in orange jumpsuits, and she wasn't, but she didn't want to stop either. Nor did she try too hard to put the image of his brains splattered all over the dark room floor out of her mind.

After seeing him like _that_ the thought of him dying in a prison brawl wasn't even all that bad really. At least not to _Max_.

_I hope it hurt._

She knew she shouldn't be feeling that either, but she told herself the anger was natural, understandable.

_A few minutes of suffering was the _least_ he could do really._

It had always been too much to hope for, some kind of last-minute mea culpa, a heartfelt post-sentencing apology or at least some kind of acknowledgement of everything he did wrong. Now the best she could imagine was that he felt, as fists rained down, even a fraction of the helplessness that Max remembered, strapped to the chair down there and desperate to find a way to not die by his hand.

 _Did he ever regret it all? Or just wish he wasn't caught?_ After his whole sadistic monologue she could only imagine the latter, at best faking an apology for a reduced sentence.

The news that her bed-head selfie had placed second hardly even registered, and she couldn't have said who the first place winner was.

_Was he afraid, at least?_

Max remembered that fear, the sinking terror that can only come from death being inches from your neck. The first nightmare she'd had, the night after the funeral, her rewind powers hadn't been able to stop it, and she'd woken up curled in a ball, dreading the death from her dream, then wishing for it.

Before she knew it the bell was ringing to announce the end of classes. She wasn't sure why she'd bothered attending any of them, she might as well have just gone back to her dorm and watched House again for all she'd learned all day.

It would have been a better distraction too.

She watched as the classroom slowly emptied, first Mrs. Gibson, who presumably had grading or something to do, then Taylor and Courtney, probably off to do some Vortex Club thing like smoking pot in the bathrooms.

As the last few students wandered out, leaving only Victoria and Max herself, she gathered her things, preparing for a quiet little chat with her new secret girlfriend. She was interrupted by the buzz of her phone:

 **Victoria:** Did you hear?

Victoria was _right there_ , at the table she always sat at, tapping at her phone rapidly. The classroom was completely empty by this point. There was no sensible reason for Victoria to send a text rather than just walking up to Max and talking.

 **Max:** Yes

 **Victoria:** Fucker got what was coming to him

 **Victoria:** Hope he got a bit of the prison shower treatment on the way out

 **Victoria:** If there's any justice in the world 

It took a moment to realize what Victoria meant by that, and it felt like swallowing a golf ball.

 **Max:** I'd never wish that on anyone

 **Victoria:** Well aren't you a perfect little angel

 **Victoria:** I wouln't feel bad for one second if he got a taste of his own medicine before he bit it

 **Max:** An eye for an eye makes the world go blind

Mad wasn't sure how much she believed that, but she was horrified enough by Victoria's suggestion that taking a polar opposite stance seemed like the thing to do.

 **Victoria:** I'm not saying I hope it happened 50 times, just once

 **Max:** Whatever happens to him doesn't fix anything though

 **Victoria:** It'd make us feel better

 **Max:** Not me

Out of the corner of her eye Max saw Victoria's rapid typing and tapping stop, dead, and Victoria looked back to the rear of the classroom, towards Max, for the first time since she'd sat down.

 **Victoria:** Sorry

 **Victoria:** I know I'm a shit person sometimes. I shouldn't try to drag you down to my level

 **Victoria:** Congrats by the way

 **Max:** What for?

 **Victoria:** Fuck you.

 **Victoria:** Were you not even listening when she announced the results?

 **Max:** Oh, right, sorry. Yeah.

 **Max:** Thanks.

 **Max:** Did you win anything?

 **Victoria:** I got fuck-all. Which you would know if you were actually paying attention

 **Victoria:** She didn't even announce anything other than you. I guess first and third place winners were from other schools

 **Max:** Sorry. I'm sure your entry was great anyways.

 **Victoria:** It was shit. I told you that over Ramen

 **Victoria:** Not surprised it won fuck-all

 **Victoria:** Now I just have to explain it to mom

 **Victoria:** She'll be all "How could you turn in such a terrible entry"

 **Victoria:** And she'll be right

 **Max:** She shouldn't be so hard on you.

 **Max:** You can't win them all.

 **Max:** But you're always putting yourself out there, and that's important.

 **Max:** You did great in that other contest, when I was too chicken to even enter.

 **Max:** I wouldn't even have entered this one if it wasn't required.

_Or if Kate hadn't spotted my photo and asked..._

**Victoria:** That's what drives me crazy. I try and try and get nothing but shit most of the time

 **Victoria:** Then you come along all like 'oh it's not that great' 

**Victoria:** And you're not even trying and your stuff's amazing

 **Max:** I do have to try.

 **Max:** I went through like fifty dollars worth of film to get that last assignment just right.

 _Which actually isn't that many shots if you do the math_ , Max thought, and wondered if Victoria knew how much instant film cost.

 **Max:** And you don't even want to know how many photos with the DSLR.

 **Max:** I just got lucky with the contest.

 **Victoria:** The only luck you have is being born with so much talent.

 **Victoria:** Come over here.

Max hesitated for a moment, but Victoria shot a smile across the room, and so Max slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and got up to actually talk to Victoria.

"Hi..." They were alone in the room still, but Max wasn't quite sure how friendly she should be until Victoria jumped up from her seat and hugged her tightly.

This was the closest she'd been to Victoria, ever; Max could feel how warm she was, feel her shoulders rise and fall with deep breaths, and feel her hands in the small of Max's back. Whatever troubles she'd been dealing with all day were forgotten; there was just Victoria, right in front of her, her body lean and surprisingly strong, her breasts pressed up against Max's chest in a way that made it difficult to think of anything else.

It was some time before Victoria finally loosened her grip and leaned back a bit, leaving an arm on Max's shoulder and a few inches of space between them.

"You're an amazing artist, Max. I just hope someday I'm half as good as you."

It took Max a few seconds to regain the ability to speak. "Y- You are! I mean, not just half. You have a talent for some stuff that I wouldn't even touch. Like, I bet you could even make _me_ look sexy."

"I already did, remember? Only took like six hundred bucks and a whole afternoon. And I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but even when you're not _sexy_ sexy, I still think you're, you know..."

"Attractive?"

"Beautiful. In this weird way I don't even totally get, but I totally feel it. Like how-"

Max put her lips up against Victoria's, silencing her with the most tender, passionate kiss she could manage.

The world dissolved into blurry background as they wrapped their arms around each other again, as Max felt Victoria's lips on hers, her fingers through Max's hair again, the ridges of her spine and folds of her dress under Max's hands. It felt amazing, being this close; she could feel every heartbeat, every fold of Victoria's clothing, and she was even willing to ignore the fact that Victoria had angled her head to get a clear view of the door.

If Max could have curled up and climbed into Victoria somehow, she would have done it. She wanted to be closer, as close as humanly possible, until she realized what that implied, and her shyness kicked back in. Her hand had traveled downward toward Victoria's rear, but she withdrew it now, breaking off the kiss with an embarrassed giggle and looking up into Victoria's eyes with desire, but also surprise at her own forwardness.

Max could have gone for another round, but the loud clang of a locker echoed in from the hallway and reminded them that they weren't alone enough.

"Hell of a way to start the second trimester, eh?" Victoria said. "Jefferson, and... us."

Max smiled awkwardly. "Yeah. And math homework."

"Right." Victoria began picking her things up from the table. "See you later then?"

"Yeah."

"Text me!"

"I will," Max said, smiling as she started towards the door, and this time it wasn't a lie.


	61. Minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder: I'll be taking a one week vacation from updating, so the next post will be on Jan 5.

The words 'group project' were enough to send fear running through the deepest depths of Max's soul, and for good reason. They always seemed to end with her doing all the work, or the other group members accusing her of not pulling her own weight. Sometimes both.

She was even less in the mood for one than usual, but that was exactly what Mrs. Hoida had decided to assign for their study of Fahrenheit 451. To make things worse, there would be no resorting to her usual 'pair with Alyssa and Kate' strategy.

 _"I've noticed you always seem to end up in the same groups every time, so I'm going to_ shuffle _things around a bit."_

Groups had been chosen by a deck of cards ( _Oh, 'shuffle'. ha,_ Max realized belatedly) and she'd drawn the three of clubs, landing her between Warren and Stella in the quietest corner of the library they could find.

Every library Max had ever been in had a particular smell to it. They all had overtones of paper and leather, and usually a touch of mustiness, but she imagined being blindfolded and still knowing whether she was in the Fremont Branch, or the library at Roosevelt High. The Blackwell library was no different, with a particular scent that wafted through the old wooden stacks, with most of the familiar parts complemented by a few she couldn't place, perhaps a hint of the open ocean that was missing from Seattle, or art supplies from the next classroom over. She imagined Warren explaining about microbiomes, and the link between smell and memory that she already knew about, and decided to keep that observation to herself.

_"Each group will have 15 minutes to present to the class. I'm not going to assign any topics or styles of presentation, you could present a slideshow or act something out. You could do an elaborate musical number if you wanted, it just has to relate to the book in a meaningful way, and show some effort and thought."_

The assignment was maddeningly vague and infuriatingly broad. _Something_ relevant to the novel. _Somehow_. Warren suggested doing something on the topic of censorship, and that won the day for lack of any better ideas. Now they just had to decide _how_.

"No way we're doing a PowerPoint," Stella argued. "That's a total snooze fest, and she said we get points for creativity."

"No, you can totally be creative with PowerPoint," Warren shot back. "It's all about the content, and how you organize it. It's just a tool to put stuff on the screen."

"There's no way you get creativity points for a slideshow, _especially_ a well-organized one!"

"Well I'm not doing a musical number." Warren turned to Max imploringly. "Help me out here."

Max silently cursed him for dragging her into the middle of it, even if she was, technically, a part of the group. "I don't wanna do either."

"Well, do _you_ have any ideas then?" Stella asked her, with growing irritation.

"Not really," Max conceded.

"What are we supposed to do then? We gotta have something by the end of today so we can get started. This thing is due Friday."

Warren shrugged. "The only _actual_ idea we've had so far is my slideshow. Maybe we should just start on that and see if we get any better ideas."

" _You_ can do that," Stella said, "if you want to waste your effort. Max and I'll be brainstorming useful stuff."

If there was anything Max didn't want, it was being forced to pick somebody's side. She resented Stella in silence, even while having to admit that she'd rather do _nothing_ than work on a slideshow. Truth be told, she'd rather do nothing than a lot of things lately.

Stella turned her focus to Max. "Come on, you're the artist here. Couldn't you do a photo project about censorship or something?"

"I don't even know how that would work. It's too abstract."

"I'm sure you can think of _something_ creative though."

"It doesn't work like that. I can't just get inspiration on demand. It just kinda has to come to me."

"Well it'd better come soon. I got two media papers and a Science Olympics project to work on, I don't have time for you to daydream."

Max couldn't have identified what part of Stella's grousing triggered the thought, but some neuron fired somewhere and after a few seconds an idea came out. "What about the stuff that's being censored?"

"What do you mean?"

That was actually a good question. The thought was still condensing in Max's mind from the few weak bits of inspiration that had been floating around ever since they'd picked the topic.

"I dunno, just, like... _We_ don't have to be creative, we just focus on the creative stuff that's censored? Like, books that are banned?"

Stella jumped at the idea right away. "That's actually pretty cool. We could like, find a bunch of censored books and read a bit from each, then talk about why it was banned."

Warren finally saw fit to stop browsing on his phone and rejoin them. "That could work. But how do we know what's censored? I mean, doesn't the whole censorship thing make that kind of hard?"

"Besides," Stella said, "this is the United States. They don't actually ban books. Right?"

"The Nazis did," Warren retorted. "Isn't that what the book's referencing?"

Max had a vague notion that Farenheit 451 was actually about McCarthyism, but since she couldn't remember where it came from she wasn't certain enough to say it out loud. "Wouldn't those be in German though? Plus, I don't know if the class will care about them."

"I'm sure there are English books we've heard of that are banned in, like, China or something. They have a whole firewall for censorship."

Stella stepped in with a suggestion: "How about we take ten and look it up?"

Warren concurred, and they took to their laptops, leaving Max torn between trying to do research on her phone, and using one of the library computers. It was hard to say which was more unappealing, the tiny screen or the row of beige boxes against the wall, probably still running Windows XP. Ten minutes might be enough time to run to her dorm room and grab her laptop, but that sounded like even less fun.

After a few moments consideration, Max opted for a half-ass web search on her phone. Just enough to seem like she wasn't totally slacking off, while they did the bulk of the work. She typed in the most obvious search phrase ever and struck gold.

 

Stella was the first to break the quiet, after what Max was fairly certain was less than ten mintues. "Okay, so I looked for Chinese book censorship and found a lot of stuff written by expats, but nothing I'd heard of before."

Warren didn't sound like he'd had much luck either. "The Nazis mostly burned German books. Who'd've guessed, right? There were a few authors I knew, like Hemingway and Upton Sinclair, but most of it was just a wall of German names I didn't recognize."

Stella sighed and looked to Max. "Do _you_ have anything?"

Max finally stopped trying to hide her grin and presented her results. "I just searched for 'Banned books' and I actually found some great stuff. There's a whole bunch of books, ones we've all heard of, that are challenged and taken out of libraries all the time."

"Shit, yeah." Stella looked almost pissed at herself. "There was a whole thing about it in the library display case a few months ago and I totally forgot about it. Librarians get super-pissy about taking things off the shelves."

Max continued, for Warren's benefit: "It's not the government, mostly just parents who don't want their kids reading certain things, like The Color Purple 'cause of sex, or Huck Finn 'cause it has the N-word a lot."

"I bet I could talk to Mrs. Konetsco about it while I'm shelving books or something, see if she's ever had to take anything down," Stella offered.

"That'd be perfect. There are top ten lists for every year. I didn't recognize all of the ones on this years, but they had that Scary Stories book I read in fourth grade."

"And Captain Underpants," Warren interjected. The most recent year's list was up on his laptop screen now, and he was scrolling through the page, looking for more ideas. "I loved that series!" A few titles down he arrived at a gray book cover with nothing but the title and the image of a necktie. He snorted and turned the laptop so Max and Stella could get a better look.

"I am not reading that in front of the class," Stella said, as firmly as she could manage.

"There's way more though," Max said. "You should check some of the older ones, like from when we were growing up. There's stuff I remember there, like The Perks of Being a Wallflower and Catcher in the Rye, and the one with the gay penguins."

Warren blinked at the last one. "Is that seriously a thing?"

"It is, and it's adorable. But it gets better. The number one most challenged book for 2002 is _Harry Potter_. 'Cause it's ' _occult_ '."

They did their best to crack up quietly, for fear of drawing Mrs. Konetsco's ire, but a few snorts and some laughter still punctured the quiet library atmosphere. Max looked around, hoping that nobody was close enough to be bothered. There was just Brooke, sitting at a table nearby, giving them the stink-eye rather than paying attention to her laptop.

Once they managed to quiet down Stella stepped in to conclude the meeting. "How about we each pick a book and get five minutes to present it in. Just send me an email or something when you decide which one."

If Warren had any objection to Stella taking the lead on organizing he didn't show it, and as she left Max couldn't help but notice Warren taking his sweet time putting his laptop in his backpack.

Max gathered the pen and sheet of notepaper from the table, and tried to slip away quietly, but Warren managed to catch her on her way out:

"Hey, uh... How've you been?"

Max had been hoping she'd escape the library without having this conversation, but however much she'd been ignoring or avoiding Warren lately he'd been a good friend, and he asked the question with genuine care.

"I'm hanging in there." Max's stock response to a stock question, but there was no way Warren would leave it at that.

"Yeah, that's good. Sorry I haven't been in touch. I know everything's been really rough on you lately."

"You could say that again," Max said. "It's okay though. I haven't been much fun to be around."

"It's not like that. I just don't know what to say."

"I don't either sometimes. But just, like, showing you care is good. Like this."

"Oh. Well I'm glad you're doing okay. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Yeah." Max had almost managed to forget how sweet and caring Warren could be, or the fact that he took a beating for her, once, in another reality. "Maybe we should see a movie together or something."

Warren's face fell. "Oh, uh. I'm not sure I should." He glanced over Max's left shoulder where Brooke was probably still sitting. "Maybe if we made it a double date? I'd bring Brooke, and you'd bring some other guy."

"Or girl," Max added impulsively.

Warren raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Y- Yeah." Max shrugged, and figured it was okay to come out herself as long as she didn't drag Victoria into it. "I don't have anyone official right now, but... what's your opinion on Anime?"

"It's... an acquired taste? That I haven't really acquired? But if your, uh, girlfriend wanted to recommend something we could check it out."

"Yeah, sure. I'll let you know when we're up for it."

Being half-out was better than nothing, but even if Victoria wouldn't be caught dead going on a double date with Warren, the secrecy still felt like an unpleasant leash around Max's neck.

"Cool," Warren said as he finally picked up his little blue backpack. "See you later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter about 12th grade English assignments. There actually _has_ been a work removed from the Blackwell library recently. I'll let you guys guess what.


	62. Permission

  
The sound of Kate's violin wafting down the stairwell lifted Max's spirits higher and higher as she climbed to the girls' floor of Amber Hall. It wasn't just pleasant to listen to; it also suggested that there was still plenty of time left in the day, and that Max's group project hadn't killed her entire afternoon.

Max smiled as she pulled her hood down, walking down the hall still slightly proud of her project idea, and imagining what she could do with her time slot. There were other assignments to work on, ones due sooner, but they were pushed to the back burner. There would be time later.

Taylor's door was open for the first time Max could remember. She caught a glance of the girl in passing, lying on her stomach on the dark blue bedspread with her cell phone in her hands.

She was just past the door when she heard Taylor call out:

"Hey, Max. Get in here."

"What's wrong?" Her eyes darted toward the end of the hall, but it was too far to see if Victoria's door was ajar again.

"We gotta talk."

Max said "sure" and slipped into the room quickly, closing the door behind her.

Taylor stretched and rolled over, draping one leg over the side of the bed and putting her hands on the other knee.

Max took the moment to survey the photos above her bed, and noticed a newly-familiar face amongst a grouping of backstage photos and other theatre-related shots. Tyra Messer's broad toothy smile shone out from more than one of the photos, sharing pizza, or arm over shoulder with Taylor for a joint selfie.

Max was in the middle of realizing that she couldn't admit to knowing Tyra when Taylor spoke.

"What the hell are you doing with Victoria?"

Max was unprepared for the question, and struggled to brush it off. "W- We're just friends."

"Bullshit. You two've been giving each other googly eyes ever since Thanksgiving. You think I didn't recognize the Chase Space on your Instagram?"

Max hadn't realized Taylor even followed her. "I... It's not your business."

"Fuck that. Next time she's trying to drink herself to death _you_ go ahead and stop her. Then maybe you get to tell me it's not my business."

Max was still trying to think of a response to that when Taylor continued.

"I'm her _best friend_. It's _my business_ if some bitch is toying with her head."

"I'm not! I'm just trying to help her. Like you are."

"Help her with _what_? What the hell can you do that I can't?"

"I don't think I should say."

"So you're fucking her."

Max went immediately pale. "What? No!"

"Then what the fuck does she see in you?"

"She just wants... someone who understands what she's going through."

"And she picked _you_!? I can't even..."

"I... I really think you need to talk to her about it." Victoria would probably not be overjoyed that Max couldn't handle this herself, but it was better than her being pissed that Max botched it.

"I just don't get what the hell she sees in you." It sounded far more like an insult than when Taylor had phrased it as a question.

"Have you ever tried looking?"

" _Yes_. All I see is a whiny hipster chick with the fashion sense of a hobo."

"Hey, I have _some_ style. Like, I look pretty bitchin' in my coat of many colors, right?" Max pointed to herself and did her best at a fashionable pose.

"Oh god I hate you."

"What?"

"Now I'm gonna have Andrew Lloyd Weber lyrics running through my head every time I see that thing."

"Who's tha-"

"Just get out. Ugh."

Tyra beamed at Max again as she took one last glance at the photos on her way out the door, wondering what a girl had to do to be Taylor's friend in this universe.

Taylor's room behind her, Max hurried to her own door, but stopped quickly, seeing the door opposite hers out of the corner of her eye and realizing what must happen next.

_Maybe I should just text her?_ Max thought as she locked her door behind her.

**Max:** I just had a talk with Taylor and she asked me about me and you. I tried not to tell her anything but I think she figured it out. I'm so sorry!

She had to use the backspace key more than usual as she typed the message out, and she read it over and over before finally sending. _Better she hears it from me than the school rumor mill_.

**Max:** Please don't be mad.

**Victoria:** Don't worry about it. I'll handle Taylor.

Max was still processing that when she heard a brisk knock at her door. _Shit_. It could only be one person, and it was the last person she wanted to talk to now, but her last text message gave Max enough courage to unlock the door anyways.

"I'm sorry!" Max said it again before Victoria even had a chance to close the door. 

She flinched and shied back a bit as Victoria rushed toward her, only to find herself embraced tightly rather than... really she wasn't sure what she'd been afraid of Victoria doing, but she went limp with relief in the girl's arms.

"No! No no no no no, I'm the asshole," Victoria said soothingly. "Acting like it's some big secret, I... it's not really fair to put all that pressure on you."

"But I basically outed you!" Max said into Victoria's neatly-pressed blouse.

"I'm not gonna get disowned or anything. It's no big deal if Taylor knows about us," Victoria said as reassuringly as she could manage. "I came out to her months ago, and she's not blind. And that's not even the _worst_ secret she's keeping for me, remember?"

"Kate asked me too, so I guess she suspects it. I didn't tell her but I really wanted to; I felt so bad lying to her."

Victoria chuckled, just a touch. "You can tell her too. I mean, I still don't wanna announce it to the whole school, but friends is okay, if they ask."

"Okay." Max took a deep breath and did her best to compose herself. "What about Warren?"

"That dweeb?" Victoria scoffed. "Ugh, why would you even bother?"

"He's still a friend. He said I should do a double date sometime with him and Brooke."

Victoria's face twisted into an impressive expression of disgust.

Max couldn't help but laugh. "So, that's a hard no?"

It was only a moment before Victoria's scowl dissipated and she joined Max in appreciating the joke.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. It's okay, we don't have to go out anywhere if you don't want to."

Victoria reached down and clasped Max's hand in hers. "I do want to go out somewhere with you. I really do. Just not that."

"But how would we without... you know."

"We can find somewhere out of town." Victoria shrugged. "It's no big deal with the car."

"Right."

"Just pick a place or something and let me know."

Max nodded. "Sure. Do you have any ideas?"

Victoria shrugged. "Not really. Always hated this town, never really looked around when my parents made me come down here. I'm sure if there's anything actually decent in this stupid place you'll find it."

"Yeah." Max reached around Victoria, drawing her closer for a tight hug, then a long, drawn-out kiss that made Max feel warm and perfect inside. She allowed her hands to wander downward, resisting the temptation to squeeze as she cupped her right hand around Victoria's rear.

The hand was about to go even lower, to finally touch that ever-savory-looking thigh, when Victoria broke free from the kiss and stopped her, looking like there was something she wasn't quite ready to say.

Max tried her best to hide the disappointment. "Is something wrong?"

"Max, did you... really think I was gonna hurt you?"

"What?"

"When I came in you flinched, like I was gonna smack you or something."

"No, I... I just wasn't thinking."

"I don't want you to be afraid of me. That's not how this thing should work. Even _I_ know that. And I get it, I've been a bitch sometimes. Maybe even most of the time. But never like _that_. I swear to god I'll never hurt you. Unless you're like, _into_ that sort of thing..."

Max shook her head, slightly wide-eyed at the thought of Victoria being kinky. "I was... I was just freaking out."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I dunno, just..." Max tightened her grip on Victoria's waist, and drew her closer again to resume the interrupted kiss. Her hand stopped short of Victoria's rear, until she felt Victoria gently guiding it lower, then giving it a gentle squeeze that translated to permission to grope. Max obliged, and enjoyed how firm it was, how she could feel Victoria tense and relax with minute changes in balance.

Victoria leaned her head to the side slightly, and Max's breath caught in her throat as she felt lips gently run down her neck, then plant a delicate kiss just below her jaw. If Victoria had gone lower, down to Max's chest to plant another kiss, it would have been perfect, but instead she straightened back up and smiled broadly but nervously at Max.

Max did her best to hide her disappointment, and tried to think of some way to ask Victoria to keep going without actually saying it--partly because asking for it didn't feel romantic enough, and partly because words in general were failing her at the moment.

"I wish I could stay." Victoria finally broke the silence, sounding genuinely sorry. "But I got a ton of stuff to work on. And I should probably talk to Taylor before she decides to tell the whole school."

"Right."

Victoria gave Max one last kiss on the forehead before she turned toward the door. "Let me know when you decide where you wanna go, okay?"

"Yeah." Max put on a smile as Victoria closed the door behind her.

Max's knowledge of Arcadia Bay and it's surrounding area was largely limited by the distance a 13-year-old girl could pedal on a bike, but that was what the Internet was for. Later.

For now, back to the darkly brilliant exploits of Dr. House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a new laptop, and instead of totally wiping it in favor of Kubuntu I'm dual-booting, so I finally have a chance to play BTS. Only partway through episode one, so no spoilers. Also, if anything comes up that contradicts something I've written I'm not changing it, at least not until the whole thing is done and I'm ready to edit/rewrite.
> 
> An earworm to leave on:
> 
> _I look handsome, I look smart_
> 
> _I am a walking work of art_
> 
> _Such a dazzling coat of many colors_
> 
> _How I love my coat of many colors_...
> 
> You're welcome.


	63. Familiar

The Principal's office was starting to get awfully familiar, and that didn't suit Max one bit.

In Seattle she'd visited it exactly once, in five years. Now she was about to make it an even half-dozen in the span of four months at Blackwell, and that wasn't even counting the parts of the timeline she didn't remember.

At least this time he had the courtesy of explaining the reason for her summons, even if it was just a short "I was wondering how far you'd gotten with the push for a memorial for Miss Price."

 _Nowhere._ That was how far she'd gotten.

She was tempted to ignore the instructions to show up at the school office, and send an email instead, but this was for Chloe. _I was too shy for five years, and look where it got her. She deserves something better from me._

Mrs. Evans seemed especially happy to see her there for something other than a flashback-induced panic attack, and chatted about her sixth grade daughter as Max sat, waiting for the office door to open and admit her.

"How was your holiday?" he asked as soon as she'd sat down.

"It was good. Nice break from classes and everything. I hung out with my old friends a lot, visited grandma, that sort of thing. You?"

"I have a second grandkid on the way! My older daughter announced it over Christmas, so I'm still pretty excited." He clearly couldn't be happier about it, and his joy was... perhaps not contagious but at least comforting.

"Is it a boy or girl?"

"They've decided to keep _that_ a surprise, but they've already picked a name. 'Kelly'." He shook his head with bemusement. "I don't know why I expected her to do this like a normal person, but it'll be interesting I think, and I'll still get a grandkid out of it."

He sat back in his chair, which creaked slightly. "Now! Down to business."

This was the part of the conversation Max was dreading.

He seemed to pick up on it though. "I know. I'm sure you've been busy with finals and vacation, but the end of this month would be a really good time to have a petition ready."

It wasn't that Max was busy, exactly. More like she had been trying to avoid things that made her uncomfortable lately, and Chloe was near the top of that long list. "What do I need to do?"

"Well, first you decide exactly what you want to happen, and write it down. Refine it until you have a proposal, then put it on paper with spaces and extra pages for signatures." He talked as if all of this should be obvious, and Max realized he was probably speaking from experience. "You'll want to get real, physical signatures along with printed names, maybe even phone numbers. Internet petition stuff is too easy, and the board really doesn't think much of it."

"Right." Max's last hope, that this would be something other than the painful process she imagined, disappeared.

"You don't have to do it alone, you know."

"Wha?"

"I know this isn't really your thing. It's all in your file, although really I didn't have to read that to figure it out. But I'm sure you have some friends who would be willing to help you out."

She certainly did. Other than Victoria and her gang, Max was hard-pressed to think of people who _wouldn't_ jump at the chance to help Max memorialize her childhood friend. The thought of asking, say, Dana for help was not exactly appealing, but she was fairly confident she could work up to it.

"Yeah. I do."

"Excellent. If you need any help please feel free to email me. And you might want to send the final draft just to make sure everything's in order before you start getting signatures."

"Right. Of course."

Max sensed the meeting was drawing to a close, and lifted herself from the old chair to make her escape.

But he was not going to let her go that easily.

"So, how've you been?"

"I'm fine."

"Really."

Max looked at the glass award still sitting on his desk. "It was easier over Christmas, when I didn't have to walk through that hallway ten times a day. But I'm managing."

"What did your therapist say?"

"We talked through it a lot. And she went over some exercises to help keep me from... you know." At this point it was an outright lie even if Kate or Kristen or Victoria _did_ count as a real therapist; she'd had no such conversations with anyone other than the Google search bar.

"That sounds like a good start. I hope she's able to keep helping you."

"Thanks. I do too."

* * *

Max opened the door to the girls hallway and glanced at Dana's door, hoping that it would be closed now, but of course it never was. As she passed it she pondered whether to just get it over with and ask, or put it off 'til she had an actual petition to sign, but Alyssa interrupted her mid-stride, looking entirely too happy to see her.

"Oh, thank god Max."

Max ignored the odd vibes and plastered a smile on her face. "Hey Alyssa. What's up?"

"Do you still have that butterfly photo on your wall?"

The smile faltered slightly. "I, uh... I took it down a bit ago. Not sure where it is now." A big fat lie. Max could picture the two pieces clearly, sitting in their hiding place in the bottom of her third desk drawer. "Why?"

"I'm kinda screwed and I think you're the only one who can help me."

"Oh, uh... what happened?"

"I had a great photo for the contest, and they rejected it 'cause they thought it was photoshopped."

"Cereal? Why'd they think that?" _And what the hell does that have to do with-_

"They just said that the butterfly in it couldn't be in Oregon."

"Wh-"

Alyssa continued, oblivious to the change in the color of Max's face.

"And I thought, you had that Polaroid of the same one on your wall, right? Can't photoshop that. Maybe you could show that to them and prove it. I mean, it's too late for the contest, but at least it'd get Mrs. Cameron off my back. She's talking like, academic dishonesty shit. Which is fucking crazy. It's just a photo of a butterfly."

"When did you take it?" Max asked, a bit too urgently. "And where?"

"I was at the lighthouse, middle of last month I guess? What about yours?"

Max ignored the question. "Did anything... _weird_ happen when you saw it?"

"Woah. Uhh... what do you mean?"

"Like, anything you couldn't explain."

"No? I mean... wow, Max. You really think there's something freaky going on?"

"Yeah. I can't really explain much, but I think the butterfly _means_ something."

"Trippy. I'll for sure tell you if I see it again. Could you look for the photo?"

"Yeah. No problem."

Max didn't even bother hiding her hurry to get back to her own room, and she dug to the bottom of the desk without even closing her door. The photo was still there, still torn in two, and still triggered a sinking feeling in Max's gut just from glancing at it. She reached an unsteady hand to pick it up, looking away and tracing the ragged edges of the tear with her fingers before grasping the two pieces and shoving them into her hoodie pocket.

Max caught Alyssa just before she disappeared into her room.

"I found it!"

"Oh, awesome!"

"Yeah, I... I'm really sorry. I got angry and tore it in half a while ago." Max held out the pieces sheepishly. "Do you think it'll still help?"

Alyssa looked confused for just a moment, before shrugging. "Oh, uh... yeah I think it'll be fine. I just need to show it to Mrs. Cameron so she doesn't write me up for cheating. I'll get it right back to you."

"No, that's okay. You can keep it."

"What?"

"Just... keep it safe for me."

Max was vaguely aware that she was being strange, but Alyssa seemed to take it all in stride.

"Okay Max. Sure thing."

Alyssa smiled as she turned towards her room, and Max retreated to her own and shut the door a little too loudly behind her.

_The Lighthouse._

Max hadn't visited it since waking up in this timeline. She dropped her messenger bag to the floor and crawled up on the bed, looking through what remained of her photo wall for more of it. Most of the good ones had been taken down for her portfolio and never put back up, but she found a decent snapshot of it near the ceiling, and stared at it as if it would provide some further clue. What she was looking for was beyond her; she stared anyways, until she felt slightly stupid standing there on the mattress, in her shoes no less.

Kate would be the person to ask. They'd go together, looking for the butterfly and whatever other clues might be found. Maybe they could talk to it again. _Talk to her again_, Max corrected herself. _If butterflies even have genders,_ Max thought as she crossed the hall.

There was just one obstacle, a big lie that sat between Max and Kate, and as she waited for Kate to answer the door she wondered,

_How the hell am I gonna tell her?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished with BTS. Given the game's focus on two characters who are dead in this world, there wasn't a whole lot of overlap. The only thing I can think of offhand that would affect this work is the fact that Mr. Amber is the DA, which would probably change some details of chapters 33 and 52, but I'm still resolved to get to the end before I start revising published chapters, so it'll be fine for now.
> 
> I do kind of agree with the reviews that said chapter three is the weakest, but they were all enjoyable. It was neat to see more of Chloe, and meet Rachel in the flesh, and I had fun messing with Victoria, but man that after-credits scene was brutal.


	64. Jesus

  
"Come in!"

Kate said it the way she always did, brightly, with a smile that could make the Grinch's heart grow three sizes. It was hardly necessary; Max already knew how welcome she was in Kate's room, from the first day of move-in when Kate invited Max in for tea, to the group sessions.

And so Max held out hope that what she had to say wouldn't change that. As Kate turned and leaned over the back of her desk chair Max closed the door and stood by it, not ready to come any closer for now.

"Kate? I, uh... need to tell you something."

Kate sensed Max's nervousness and asked hesitantly: "What is it?"

"Kate, I... I kissed Victoria."

Every time Max had ever seen Kate unhappy, it was a vulnerable kind of sadness, a want for cheering up, a need for a hug. Now Max saw... disappointment? A sort of resigned annoyance? Something different, something not promising. Max immediately chastised herself for bringing it up like that. _Yeah, just go ahead and remind her how my girlfriend assaulted her._

Kate was silent for a moment, then looked to Max. "I see. How long?"

Answering that truthfully would be a terrible idea. "It uh... it started back in Seattle I guess. But it wasn't really a thing until a few days ago."

_At least I didn't say 'Victoria kissed_ me _'._

Kate leaned further over the back of her chair and looked at the couch. "I thought you were keeping things platonic."

"Yeah, I tried, but..."

"It 'just sort of happened'?"

"Not really. It's been... growing for a while I guess."

"Was it really that hard to keep your hands to yourself? Is Victoria _that_ attractive?"

"No! I mean... it's not like that. More like... she just makes me feel good, and I want to help her."

"I'm not sure that's the best grounds for a relationship, Max."

"I _am_ attracted to her, I mean. But she helps me too."

"Just because you're grieving doesn't mean you should shack up with... with _her_. Did you even think about how it'd make me feel?"

"I thought you said you'd be okay with it."

"I used to be. But after everything she told me... I'm not sure she can change, Max. I don't think she's good for you. Just because she's there..."

"Didn't you forgive her for it all?"

"That's what I told her. And I thought I could, but it's so hard, Max. I can't stand to look at her sometimes. And _you_ forgive her?"

"I do," Max said, as firmly as she could.

"How?! She told you what she did, right?"

"She did. And it's horrible, but she's sorry for it. She wouldn't do it again. I know she wouldn't."

"She did it once, and that was once too many. She could have stopped all of it from happening. Me, the shooting..."

_Wait, what?_

"Max, you loved Chloe. I never even saw the two of you together, but I could tell you truly did. This doesn't sound like love. It sounds desperate."

_'Could have stopped it?' What!?_ Max did her best to come up with a response that didn't make her sound even more desperate, but was distracted trying to figure out what Kate meant by that.

"I- I'm not! I mean... I know it's not the same as with Chloe. But there's still something between us."

"Just make sure you leave enough room for Jesus when you kiss."

Hearing Kate say the J-word again after so long might as well have been a slap in the face. After the first few weeks of school Kate had gotten the hint and toned down the religious talk, until she was finally able to converse like a normal person, without invoking her lord and savior every other sentence; His return certainly didn't bode well for their friendship.

"I know what I'm doing," Max sighed as she finally gave up, heading towards the door and doing her best to make herself believe what she was saying.

She didn't even remember the butterfly until the door closed behind her, and at that point it was too late to go back. But as she trudged back to her own room she realized there was someone else she could talk to about it, just across the hall.

* * *

Luckily the hallway was clear as Max walked the few feet to Victoria's room and knocked furtively.

The door opened in short order, and Victoria ushered her in quickly, uneasily.

Max flashed Victoria an ever-so-brief smile. "Don't worry, nobody saw. Wanna sit?"

That seemed to put Victoria at ease for the moment at least. She gave Max a hug and a quick peck that smelled like cigarette smoke. It was unpleasant enough on its own, but it also reminded Max briefly of a junkyard down by the railroad tracks, of a room a few blocks from main street. She quickly hid her grimace and pushed the memory away, and soon enough they were sitting side by side, close but not quite touching, on Victoria's clean white couch.

The last time Max had been in this room Victoria had been drunk out of her mind, and veering between incoherent and angry, when she wasn't passed out. It felt like forever ago, but the room had hardly changed; there were the same posters, the same magazines on the table, even the bed sheets looked unchanged. The only difference was the amount of space between them.

"So... you decide where we're gonna go?" Victoria asked eagerly.

"Actually, uh... you remember that butterfly?"

Victoria's face fell. "The blue one? From the funeral and stuff?"

"Yeah. Alyssa saw it at the lighthouse a few weeks ago."

"What does that mean?"

_Good question_. "I'm still trying to figure it out. All it's ever done is appeared to me at important moments, like when I was in the bathroom, and at the funeral. And then it talked to Samuel somehow."

"You told me it said sorry?"

"He called it 'She'. And yeah. I don't even know what it's apologizing for, really."

"Sorry for the nightmares would be a start."

"Yeah, but I think it might have something to do with the shooting." Even if she wasn't about to tell the whole truth to Victoria, she had to say _something_ to make her understand how important the butterfly was. "Like, it could have stopped it but didn't."

Victoria's brow furrowed. "What the hell do you mean?"

Max went through the Victoria version of her story one last time to make sure what she was saying would fit. "It's the reason I was in the back of the bathroom when Nathan came in. I saw it and took a photo, and he didn't see me. If I hadn't been in that corner..."

"Bit of a stretch though."

"I know. Just... I know it had something to do with it. Call it a gut feeling."

"Okay." Victoria shrugged halfheartedly.

"I was wondering if we could stop by the lighthouse sometime, you know..."

"Oh. Yeah, we can do that. It doesn't count as a date though, okay?"

"No, I know. How about a movie or something?"

"That's the kind of "date" you go on in Middle School, when you're too awkward for a real date. I wanna do something that doesn't just mean staring at a screen for two hours."

Movies were Max's favorite kind of date. Which actually made perfect sense, when Victoria put it that way.

"I'll figure something out," Max said.

"It's not hard. We could do lunch, or coffee, or even just park somewhere scenic and fool around if that's your thing."

Max's eyes widened. "You mean you wanna... do something?"

"Oh god yes. But, like... only if you want to, right?"

"I... I want to. I'm just not sure I'm ready. You know?"

"That's totally fine. Not gonna push you into anything."

It wasn't as if Max hadn't thought of it once or twice, but the idea of actually acting on those thoughts terrified her, and she suspected that if Victoria didn't at least give a gentle nudge, they'd be stuck where they were forever.

She still said "Yeah," and reached out to squeeze Victoria's hand.

"The weekend's coming up soon. How about we figure something out by Friday?"

"I'm fine with whatever you want to do."

Victoria sighed. "I'm sure we'll think of something. When do you wanna do the lighthouse thing?"

Max certainly hadn't thought that far ahead, but all she had planned for this weekend was homework, and that could be done any time--or ignored entirely. "How about Sunday morning?"

"That works. Wait, when you say 'morning'..."

"Like... Ten?" Max said, laughing slightly at her own laziness. "Maybe we'll do lunch after?"

"Cool. Any idea where?"

"How about we pick a random direction and drive 'til something good pops up on Yelp?"

"Living on the wild side, eh?" Victoria grinned. "Maybe this'll be fun after all."

Max shrugged. "Sure. But mostly... I just want answers."

"You and me both, Max." Victoria gave Max's hand one last squeeze, then sat against the couch. "You and me both."

 

 


	65. Late

  
Another day, another dilemma. This time the quesiton was how much Max could safely glance at the back of Victoria's head in English class.

Texting was out of the question. Mrs. Hoida always watched the class like a hawk, and the one time she'd caught Taylor texting she'd read the messages out loud to the entire class. Max could hardly think of a more horrifying way to be outed, so her phone stayed in her bag, and her gaze bored a hole in the back of Victoria's pixie cut whenever she thought nobody was looking.

The other parts of Victoria, the parts Max was more interested in, the smooth curves covered by taut fabric remained hidden behind the chairs and desks in between them. It hardly mattered though. If she stared hard enough she could practically feel the tightness of Victoria's waist as her hands rested on it, the firmness of her ass as they grasped it. There was still something stopping her, however, from drifting into full-on sex fantasy.

It was easy to picture Victoria naked. Just not enjoyable, because the only basis she had to go on was not from particularly pleasant circumstances, and as much as she tried to imagine her nude but alive, memories of her vision kept intruding.

The best she could do was focus on the feeling of Victoria, the softness of her lips, the scent of perfume and cigarettes, the feel of her in Max's arms, of holding eachother tightly. It was easy to drive herself mad, wishing for more of it, wishing for more, while Victoria sat, oblivious, two rows ahead; so close, but until classes ended she might as well be on the moon.

Max forced herself to look back to the chalkboard, and managed to get her mind back on track for at least a little while. In another life she would've been absorbed in the day's lesson, maybe even raised her hand to explain her theory of why Bradbury included so many mentions of suicide in the novel. Now the topic just made her stomach tighten.

Or maybe that was just the fact that there was an assignment due today, and Max's binder was empty. She'd worked on it a little bit in between naps and TV episodes, but what she'd managed to complete was nowhere near ready to hand in. _Might as well just take the late penalty._

A few minutes before the bell it came time to pass the assignments to the front, and Max realized that her seat in the back row had a major drawback. With no students behind her, and no paper of her own, there'd be no hiding it. Stella turned to collect the paper, and Max shrugged uneasily. The glare she got in return was almost scary.

But that seemed to pass, and soon Stella, and the rest of the class, were discussing mass media, social media, and their implications for the psychological well-being of the human race, while Max looked out the window at the rainclouds that had been hovering over the campus all day, and tried not to think of how many hours of TV she'd streamed in the past few months.

 

Stella pounced on Max the moment the bell rang, not even waiting for the classroom to clear out.

"Hey, did you decide on the reading for the group project?"

"I, uh... yeah." This was the first Max had even thought of it since their meeting on Tuesday.

"I didn't get an email from you."

There was good reason for that. But since Warren and Stella had already emailed their plans, and neither of them had chosen Max's first pick, it was easy to choose on the spot.

"I'm gonna do Scary Stories. They're short, so I figure I can just pick one of the really greusome ones and just read the whole thing."

"Okay good. Did you get a copy yet?"

"No. I think there's one in the library though; I'll just grab it on the way back after class." _Or just find a sketchy PDF._

"What kind of stuff are you gonna say after it?"

Max had given equally little thought to that, but luckily ideas came to her as she spoke:

"I guess I'll like... talk about how much I liked it as a kid, and then read one of the parents complaint letters or something? What are you doing for Harry Potter?"

"I was gonna talk about the Christian themes in the series, and how it's ironic that Christians are trying to have it banned. Your idea is pretty good too though, I could probably find some great crazy rants online to spice things up. I bet Warren could too."

Max smiled. "I think it's super-cute that he chose that. And it's good to have something on same-sex stuff, 'cause that was like half the list." Max wondered momentarily if his choice had anything to do with what she'd told him right after. _Or maybe it was just because of the penguins._

"Oh, did you ever get to ask Mrs. Konetsco about the Blackwell library?" The question was mostly moot now, but Max's curiosity still burned.

Stella looked suddenly hesitant. "Yeah, uh... I did. Hey, it's been a while since we got to talk. How've you been doing?"

The deflection was unexpected, and nowhere near subtle enough. _What the hell?_

"I'm fine. What'd she say?"

"She's only ever removed one book, a few months ago."

"What was it?" _And why does this feel like pulling teeth?_

" _Capturing Innocence_ by the late Mark Jefferson."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so I'm just sticking with Harry Potter."

Max smiled uncomfortably. "Yeah. That's good."

"Yeah." Stella put the last of her things into her backpack. "Anyways, uh, make sure the story you pick is like three or four minutes long. And do the whole thing in front of a mirror a few times, just to make sure you have it down."

"I will, don't worry."

"Cool, see you tomorrow."

Max realized as Stella walked away that today was Thursday. Thursday meant group therapy, and between that and two nights worth of algebra homework she had no idea where she'd find the time to rehearse. That wasn't even counting the petition that she'd barely started, and she'd promised to hang out and relax with Victoria some time soon as well. _Not much chance of that tonight I guess._ Lunch could probably be skipped, depending on how much food was left in her dorm room cereal stash. Media Lab wasn't really that important either, since this week's exercise didn't count for that much of the final grade.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and began the dreary trek to the next classroom.

_At least it's a_ normal _reason to hate life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moar like _Capturing Innocents_ amirite?
> 
> Sorry, I'm a terrible person.


	66. Regroup

"If it was me, it would have involved a wood chipper, feet first, over the course of a nice long afternoon, and me watching with a nice glass of merlot."

The meeting hadn't started out quite that dark, but with Monday's news in the front of each girl's mind it was pretty much inevitable. _Figures Lynns' the one to get all graphic,_ Max thought. _I guess she kinda has a flair for the horrifying._

"Thank you for that... uhhh... sharing such a raw feeling." Kate did not look very thankful.

Kate had brought in an extra torchiere lamp earlier in the week to supplement the meager light provided by the overhead and small lamp on the bedside table. This time of year the windows could hardly be relied on for light after 4pm, and the cloud cover that lingered from the morning's rain made it even gloomier, but the room was warm and bright.

There was still silence between Kate and Max. Right now it wasn't a problem, and the group continued as usual; Kate spoke to them all as she always did, and Max continued her habit of hardly speaking at all.

"I mean, I wouldn't say I _agree_ with that," Kelly said, "but I get where it's coming from. I still feel really angry at him sometimes, and that's okay."

Max wondered, sometimes, why Kelly was studying religion and not going into counseling. She had the air of a therapist, the way she spoke with a gentle inflection, and what felt like decades of wisdom and authority.

Lucy was a bit more like Max. She talked barely loudly enough to be heard, even by Max sitting three feet away, and looked a touch uncomfortable being there, or even just existing. "I don't know. I mean, sometimes I kinda wish he didn't die. I mean, he's done suffering now, right? And us, we're still here, dealing with the fallout."

"I don't give a shit what happens to him," Tyra said, "long as he's not gonna hurt anyone else. But this way we don't gotta testify. Or watch him make some kind of cushy deal."

"Like they did with Nathan?" Lynn scoffed. "Mr. _My daddy didn't love me enough so I murdered two people_ Prescott?"

"I've read a lot about him lately," Kate said, "about how troubled he was. I don't know what to believe, and I still don't know if he was truly responsible for what he did, but I know he'll get what he deserves in the end. Just like Mark Jefferson is now."

Kelly sat up straight on the bed next to Max. "Sometimes I wish I had your faith."

Kate smiled for the first time in the entire meeting. "I know a lot of you think it's silly, but I think he's facing God's judgement at least, and that's something I trust more than I do the courts or police."

Tyra nodded. "I just trust myself. Don't get let down as much that way."

Max glanced at the empty space between Kate and Tyra. Megan would probably have something to say about the whole subject, but Kate announced at the beginning of the session that Megan had sent her regrets, and so the group was smaller and less colorful today, and her piece went unsaid.

"It's important though," Kelly said, "that you-"

A phone chimed, and Max was mortified to realize it was her own. She hoped that whoever was trying to talk to her would leave it at that, and ignored it.

"-that you believe in something. I never put much stock in religion, and the way the police treated me I didn't have much faith in the system, either. But my family's been-"

Another chime emanated from Max's messenger bag, and there was no ignoring it this time. She reluctantly pulled it out to put it on silent and check the text messages.

**Victoria:** Hey

**Victoria:** Where the hell are you?

Max did her best to look annoyed at her phone, for the benefit of the rest of the group, and responded curtly.

**Max:** Busy

**Victoria:** When will you be back?

**Max:** An hour? Still have homework though.

Max put her phone back in her pocket as conspicuously as possible, then did her best to return her attention to the group.

"-was really great," Kate finished. "I just wish they could have _all_ been that way before he was arrested."

"Shit," Lynn said. "I'd offer to go fuck them up for you but I guess that's not really in the spirit of the whole church thing."

"Not exactly, no."

In the few moments of silence after that, Max finally saw a chance to speak up. "Hey, uh... I wanted to ask a question."

"Well go ahead," Tyra said. "It's not like you gotta raise you hand first."

"Right, um... how do all of you deal with places that bring back bad memories?"

"I don't," Lynn responded immediately. "I just avoid them. I can do parties, I can do drinks, but the house where I was drugged... I haven't been back. I figure it's better that way."

Kelly leaned forward toward Max, fortunately Kate's bed was large enough to leave a healthy amount of space between them. "You can't always just avoid it though. Coming back here for this group was tough, but it was worth it. Not just 'cause of you guys, but I also had a chance to face things that were haunting me for years. It took some time to get to that point though."

"There's a lot of stuff that bothered me after the dark room," Tyra joined in. "Like, I always wanted to be a model, but then I started freaking out whenever people took pictures. Figured there goes my dream job, but my sister offered to go with me, just for moral support, and that helped a ton."

Lucy looked at Max closely. "You're thinking about the bathroom, right? 

Max nodded. "I walk by it every day. Mostly I just grit my teeth, but right before break some kids were in there on a dare or something and it triggered... bad memories. I totally lost it, freaked out in front of everybody."

"Shit. That's awful." Lucy looked like she was holding herself back from jumping up to hug Max.

"Did Miss Gibson tell you anything that helped?" Kelly asked softly.

"I- uh... She just talked about breathing exercises and focus stuff. It just happened once but I keep feeling like if I look at it wrong I'll get one again."

"You should ask her about relaxation skills, or maybe even EMDR and stuff. I haven't needed it myself but I've heard good things about it."

"Oh, yeah. Okay."

"And there's meds too," Tyra added. "Doc put me on Prozac over winter break, and it's made it... easier to stay level I guess."

Max shouldn't have been surprised. _Those'd be great suggestions if I wasn't, you know, terrified of real therapy._

"I'm on an SNRI," Kelly shared. "It took a few tries to get the right med, but it helps me stay functional even when things get bad."

"Jeez," Lynn jumped in. "Is there anyone here who's _not_ on happy pills?"

Kate and Lucy raised their hands, and Max was about to join them when she realized it wasn't entirely true. "Does, uh, THC count?"

"Maybe? I looked into it, and there's a lot of people saying it helps with PTSD, but it's not very well studied, cause of shitty drug policy. And you gotta go all the way down to Tillamook to find a dispensary. Unless you're doing... you know, _under the counter_."

Max's gaze fell to the pile of jackets on the bed between them, then to the floor.

Much to her relief, Lucy broke the silence. "Honestly one of the meds I'm back on is also a mood stabilizer," she admitted. "It wasn't prescribed for that, but I think it-"

She was interrupted by an insistent chime coming from the bed. Max gave thanks that it wasn't her phone and looked to the source of the noise, to her left.

"Sorry," Kelly said as she pulled out her phone and silenced it, "but I gotta run soon."

"No, stay!" Tyra begged. "It's not as good without you."

But Kelly shook her head. "I have classwork to do, and way too much driving." She reached for her coat from the pile in the middle of the bed, and the other girls began to reluctantly follow suit.

Max glanced at Lucy, who reached behind her orange backpack and pulled out a sturdy looking black helmet with a floral design in fine purple lines on the side. It looked far too heavy to be a bicycle helmet, but the thought of Lucy sitting on a Harley stretched credulity.

"What's the helmet for?" she asked.

Lucy carefully threaded the strap under her chin and adjusted the fit. "I'm finally riding Billy again!"

"Billy?" 

She laughed. "That's my scooter."

"Oh." Max did her best 'I'm happy for you' smile, but it was hard when she wasn't sure exactly why. "Was it broken or something?"

"Oh yeah, you weren't here for that story. Basically after my meds changed they, well... It's a long sad tale of love and loss and all that shit. Wanna hear it?"

Max leaned against the foot of the bed. "Sure!" The packing up, and conversations between the other girls, grew quiet as Lucy explained.

"So, what I have is called Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy." Lucy's unruly red hair burst free from the helmet as she took it off again and sat back down on the couch. "When I was twelve I started getting absence seizures--that's basically zoning completely out for several minutes--and myoclonic episodes, where my hands and arms twitch after I wake up. It was never a big deal once they found the right meds, I just have to take them every day, avoid alcohol and stress, that sort of thing. And I'm serious about it, and seizure free for years. My parents even let me get my motorcycle license, and for my 16th birthday there's a shiny new Honda Elite in the driveway. I loved the thing, rode it everywhere, even when I could've just walked. Even named him after my favorite outlaw."

"Then Mark Fucking Jefferson doses me with a ton of GHB and I had my first general tonic-clonic seizure." She glanced at Max and saw in her face a need for an explanation. "That's the kind you always see on TV with the whole body shaking. Used to be called Grand Mal."

Max nodded in recognition.

"The problem is, the biggest thing that can trigger seizures with what I have is _alcohol_. And I was at a party that night, and my parents assumed _that_ was what caused it. I told them I didn't drink a drop, and it's not like I lie to them all the time but they never believed it. Goodbye scooter, goodbye license. The doctors took my word for it at least, but that just got me on stronger meds, with nasty side effects. I argued with Mom and Dad for months, but they still blamed me, until the cop was literally on our doorstep. Maybe I'll forgive them for it someday. But anyways, they put me back on my old meds, and 90 days later I'm good to drive!"

"You forgot the part where you slapped your mom," Lynn interjected.

Lucy sighed. "Yeah, I try to at least. Not my proudest moment. I probably would have gotten everything back in a few months if I'd just lied and said I learned my lesson, I'll never drink again, blah blah, but instead I just got angry. Like, tantrums, screaming, hating everything."

"I don't blame you," Max said. "That's awful."

"It is, but I should have handled it better."

" _They_ should have handled it better," Kelly interjected. "If they actually believed you maybe they could have stopped Jefferson sooner."

"I don't know about that. Even if they did, we couldn't have proved anything."

Tyra scoffed. "I had plenty of proof that Nathan was dealing drugs, and I showed it to Wells and you know what he did? He fuckin' threatened to kick me out. Like 'that's a serious accusation young lady, you should be careful saying things like that or it might affect your scholarship'. _Seriously_."

Max was about to chime in with loud agreement before she remembered that reporting the gun to the principal didn't exactly fit into the story she'd worked out for the group.

"I feel better," Kate said, "now that Wells is gone. But I've still lost some of my faith in everything. I don't feel like adults are perfect anymore. Maybe that's an important part of growing up, but it makes it hard to trust people to do the right thing."

Max wasn't sure if that was aimed at her or not; Kate was the least passive-aggressive person she'd ever met, but the only other time she'd seen Kate angry it hadn't lingered like this.

Kelly stood up and sighed loudly. "Sorry, this is a great topic and I wish I could stay for it, but I _seriously_ have to go. I got an entire Theology term paper to write, and I'm barely started."

She hugged Lucy and smiled warmly as she slipped out the door. The group could have continued without her, but didn't seem to want to; Kelly's departure seemed to remind everyone of how late it was getting, and they each gathered their things, chatting quietly as they headed to the door.

Max hadn't joined in the hugging the last few meetings, but Kelly and Lucy went out of their way to lean over the bed and embrace her on their way out. Tyra gave her a quick fist bump and a 'hang in there', and even Lynn flashed a smile in her direction before she slipped out the door.

That left just Kate, Max, and an elephant in the room.

"Are we okay?" Max asked nervously.

"You're an adult," Kate said coldly. "I can't stop you from making your own choices."

"But you don't think I should be with Victoria."

"I don't like it. I know you want to help her, and maybe that's the right thing to do, but I think you can do it better without swapping saliva."

"I'm not doing this just to help her. I really care about her."

"Was that text message from her?"

"Yeah. She just asked where I was."

"Did you tell her?"

"No!"

"Good. I know she saw the same thing you did, but I don't want her here."

"Even if it would help her?" Max highly doubted that--doubted Victoria would even be willing to go--but felt like pushing anyways.

Kate paused for a second. "I'm sorry," she finally said, "I just can't. Even if she truly is sorry. Even if it helps her, even if the rest of the group would believe her, I can't... be near her. It makes me feel sick."

"It's okay. I guess you have every right to feel that way after... you know"

"I wish she hadn't told me. I was okay until I could picture it. Then she said sorry like it would make me feel better, and now all the blurry faces are replaced with hers. And then you're... with her?"

"I understand."

"If it makes you happy... whatever. I just don't want to hear about it."

"We're not exactly out yet anyways."

"Why did you even tell me then?"

"'Cause you're my friend, Kate. You're important to me, and I couldn't go behind your back like that. I really wish it doesn't come to it, but if I have to choose between you and Victoria, I'd dump her in a heartbeat."

It wasn't an offer Max intended to fulfill, but she made it anyways, confident that Kate would never take her up on it.

"I wouldn't be much of a friend if I made you do that though."

"I don't want to make you unhappy."

"And I don't want to make you unhappy. Things don't always work out perfect for everybody in the end. But if she's really trying, and you're helping her, maybe that's for the best, even if it makes me uncomfortable."

"You're too perfect for this world, Kate."

_There it is._ The briefest of smiles flickered across Kate's face, and Max held onto the thought of it as she made her way back to her own room, tucked herself in, and worked on overdue algebra in bed until she drifted off to sleep.


	67. Moment

"Yes?"

The knock at the door came halfway through the final draft for the Chloe Price Memorial Scholarship petition. Friday afternoons were supposed to be for relaxing, but the only time Dana could spare was tomorrow, and Max still had an email full of notes from Dr. Leigh to incorporate. So instead she sat on her bed, laptop in hand, trying to think of a synonym for 'implore' since she'd already used the word twice.

Her 'Yes?' wasn't meant as an invitation. But rather than answer, Victoria strolled in, and flopped herself down on Max's bed, right by her feet.

"Hiiii Max," Victoria said, looking at the ceiling.

"Hi, Tori."

"I see I'm never gonna live _that_ down."

"Nope. What're you here for?"

"Can't I just hang out with my girlfriend?"

"Oh, uh, Y-Yeah."

"Shit, am I interrupting you or something?"

Max was about to tell her exactly what she was interrupting, but then Victoria's hand gently brushed the side of her shin, and suddenly her evening freed up.

She closed her laptop and set it on the floor beside the bed. "No, I'm good."

"You promise you'll tell me if you want me to go, right?"

"I want you here. I swear, I'll tell you if I don't."

"Okay. Sorry, I just get kinda paranoid about... you know."

Max knew. And she knew it was for the best, but sometimes she wished Victoria wasn't quite so circumspect.

"So what was that you were working on? English?"

"Just a petition. Why?" It wasn't exactly like Victoria to take an interest in Max's schoolwork.

Victoria rolled her eyes a little, but also smiled at Max as she sat up slightly to lean against the wall. "Just tryin' to chat. What kinda petition?"

"For a scholarship in memory of Chloe Price."

"Oh. That's uh... that's good."

"Yeah. I'm going around with Dana tomorrow to get signatures." Max tried to think of something to change the subject to, but Victoria beat her to it.

"Your thing today was halfway decent."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah. I mean, I never heard of that book but it sounds nuts. What was it called again?"

"Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark."

"Cool. I get why they don't want second graders reading it, though."

"No kidding. Some of them aren't quite that bad, but the first story in the book is about eating somebody's big toe."

"I can see why middle schoolers love it. I liked the one with the penguins better."

"I'm pretty sure he chose that one 'cause I came out to him."

Victoria sat quickly upright. "Wait, what?"

"I didn't tell him about _us_ , just me. We were talking about all the books on the list, and I mentioned how much I liked that one. Then when he suggested the double date he assumed I'd bring a boy, and I just... you know... told him otherwise. I didn't even mean to be dropping hints like that but I guess he got them anyways?"

"He really is a huge dork."

"Yeah. I think he tries way too hard sometimes. It's kinda cute though."

"'Kinda cute'? I didn't think you were into that sort of thing. Boys I mean."

Max shrugged. "I can appreciate a good looking guy too, I guess. Not so much lately, but..."

"I never saw the appeal. I mean, you know how when you're a kid boys are all gross and stuff? Everyone says that changes when you hit puberty, but not for me."

"Huh. For some reason I've been assuming you go both ways."

"Why? I told you before break, Lesbian with a capital L. Not one whiff of interest in the less-fair sex."

"What about Nathan?"

Victoria scowled.

"Sorry, I shouldn't..."

"No, it's a fair question." Victoria leaned against a mostly-blank spot on the photo wall. "I mostly wanted a beard. Not even sure why, really. Maybe just out of habit? There was probably a bit of denial there too."

"Did he know?"

Victoria spent an awful long time looking at the wall behind Max, not answering the question, until Max started to feel sorry for her and changed the subject again.

"What did you think of photography yesterday?"

"I don't know why I even bother going. I mean, I came here to learn _art_ from a real _artist_ , someone with vision. Not have some teacher who sells snapshots on the side tell me about the DMCA like I haven't already sent half a dozen takedowns. I know this shit."

"Well, not everyone's parents own an art gallery. I thought the copyright and marketing stuff wasn't _that_ bad. Not like I enjoy it, but I can see it being useful later, if I wanna be a professional."

"What do you mean, 'if'?" Victoria asked sharply.

Max looked at her now-sparse photo wall and considered for a while before answering. "All these photos here? They're from before."

Max could see Victoria's shoulders fall as she realized _before what_.

"I used to take them all the time, whenever anything caught my eye. And then... in the last three months I took _one_ photo for fun. That was the one I submitted for the contest. The rest of the time it's just school, or just acting like I'm okay so my parents don't worry."

"Shit. That sucks. I wasn't lying before, when I said I really like your stuff. Maybe you should be on, like, Zoloft or something?"

Max did her best to look skeptical.

"No, I'm serious. I mean, I get avoiding stuff like the bathroom, but taking photos didn't have anything to do with that."

Max was fixing to object, until she realized she couldn't tell Victoria what photos meant to her now, what they'd really done. Not without changing her story in a way she was in no way prepared for, and so she held her tongue.

Victoria ran a hand over Max's knee tenderly. "I was like that Freshman year, nothing was fun anymore, and the meds helped. I still got some if you want."

Max shook her head. _Even if they'd help,_ Max thought, _no way I'm messing around with pills without an actual doctor. Weed's risky enough._

"Wait, what about at the gallery?!" Victoria interjected.

Max stared ahead blankly, trying to figure out what tangent Victoria had jumped onto.

"You took a photo of me. Was _that_ an act?"

"Oh, right," Max said sheepishly. "No, I just forgot about it."

"Cause it came out looking like shit?"

"No, actually, it was nice. Really, I'll show you." Max reached over to the bedside table for her phone, and opened the photos folder. Victoria's photo was right at the top, followed by a handful of photos of other works of art, a passable Seattle skyline, then a few from the rest stop on the way home for Thanksgiving. They all fit on the screen, without even having to scroll down. She tapped on the first photo quickly; she was hardly in the mood to stare at yet another sign of how bad everything was.

"Here." Max was about to turn the screen toward Victoria, but instead Victoria scrambled toward the head of the bed for a better view, leaving scant room between the two of them, and affording Max a rather nice view. The photo already had her thinking of the flirting they'd done in the gallery, and Max wondered where her courage had gone since then.

"Nice. Get anything else good?"

"Not really." Max did her best to not stare down Victoria's blouse too much as she answered. Luckily Victoria was distracted swiping through the photos, until she got to one of a water fountain and Max lowered the phone.

"Not quite your best work. You still have a pretty good eye though. And I look amazing as always." She flashed Max a wry smile and sat down right between Max and her selfie wall.

 _Right_ next to her, in fact. Max felt the polyester of Victoria's dress rub up against her jeans, and Victoria's shoulder rest against hers. They'd been this close before, but only in public. In the privacy of Max's room there was nothing keeping things from going further.

Max tried, and failed, to suppress a nervous giggle.

Victoria placed her right hand gently on Max's thigh, then withdrew it and met Max's gaze hesitantly.

"You'll tell me if I go too far right?"

"Tori, I swear to god, I like this."

"Good 'cause I'm not gonna stop." She caught herself and softened. "I mean, I don't want to stop." She put her hand back down and ran it slowly up Max's thigh.

The hand sent chills running through Max's chest. "Y- You'd really... go all the way?" She tried her best to hide the anxious quiver in her voice.

"Just say the word and I'll blow your mind, right outta that little skull of yours."

That wasn't exactly the phrasing to get Max's engine running, but the thought, and a slight flick of Victoria's tongue, was enough to make her insides do a somersault. The rest of her remained frozen, able to focus only on the sensation of Victoria's hand as it ran gently under Max's shirt, up toward her belly button.

Their eyes met, and Max became vaguely aware of her own expression, mouth agape and eyes wide, dumbfounded, probably looking a bit scared, and maybe drooling a bit. Victoria's hand stopped moving, and she got that same concerned look that she always got when she was afraid she'd gone too far. Telling her otherwise would have been difficult, with how tight Max's throat was, and talking in general might kill the mood. _I need to_ show _her. I need to_ touch _her._

So Max lifted her left arm up to Victoria's chest and gave the left boob a squeeze.

She was expecting a sexy gasp in return, or maybe a smile and a dirty glance, but instead Victoria cracked up. _Hard._

"HAhahahaa... oh god sorry, I just.. hahaha."

Max was at first mortified, but with some effort managed to be simply embarrassed and more than a touch annoyed.

"What."

"Hahah, like 'honk', ahahahahaha." Victoria squeezed the air in front of her to punctuate the sound effect, and doubled over in laughter.

"What?"

By the time Victoria was even able to answer, Max was _entirely_ annoyed.

"No, oh god it's just this stupid movie where Leslie Neilsen keeps grabbing boobs by accident, and it just reminded me of... hahahaa I'm sorry."

"Is that the one where his daughter gets kidnapped?"

After a second of confusion that started the laughter all over again, even harder. "Bahahahahah oh god no, that's not even the right guy!"

"Oh." Max realized how loud they were being, and glanced at the door, sincerely hoping that everyone in the hallway was busy at parties or something.

"God, Max, you really are something." At least Victoria's voice was lower now, even if it was still packed with laughter.

"Sorry. I killed the mood?"

"No, not you. I mean that was like, the least romantic groping I ever got, except on the subway. But I shouldn't've cracked up like that. Kind of a dick move."

Max was surprised to hear Victoria admitting she'd ever set foot on the subway, and even more surprised to be hearing her apologize for something she didn't even do on purpose.

Victoria took a deep breath and laid back against the headboard. "Look, it's my bad. I'll still totally go down on you if you want." She scrunched up her face slightly. "Just as long as you wash up first, cause _damn_."

Max cringed at the mention of her hygine, and tried to recall exactly how many days it had been since she'd showered. _Too many_ was the best answer she could come up with, and she decided not to say it out loud.

"No. I mean, at least not now? The moment kind of... yeah." _If the laughing didn't kill it the shower thing sure did._ "And you weren't wrong, when you said I don't have any experience."

"So? Not like I expect you to dive right in and start munching carpet. There's other shit to do that's a bit less... up in there."

"You mean like... sexting?"

"Anything but that, actually. Sorry, but... even if I wasn't half closeted, that's the one thing I _don't_ do. Too risky. Too easy to get angry, or get hacked, then it's out there forever."

"Right."

"I'm sure we'll figure out something to do. What else are you into? Like, what's your thing? Other than photos I mean."

It took a second to think of something other than photography. "Uhh... Music?"

Victoria laughed. "I meant kinky stuff but sure, let's talk music."

"Oh. Okay." Max wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed in the change of topic.

"What you got in the stereo?"

Max shrugged. She could remember the handful of CDs she was into three months ago, but not which one she'd played last, and who knows what Other Max might have put in.

She did her best, though, to not sound as uncomfortable as she felt, and said "Let's find out."

Her stereo was secondhand, and if it had ever had a remote control it was long lost by the time Max found the listing in the Craigslist 'free' section. So she had to get up to push the play button, leaving Victoria in the bed, along with all the tension--good and bad--that came with sitting so close to her.

In the few steps to the stereo Max pondered peeking at the disc inside, but... _It's probably nothing embarrassing. Just whatever the hell Other Me had been jamming out to before her best friend's funeral interrupted it,_ she thought bitterly.

She was half expecting to hear the opening notes of 'Eat your Heart Out' from the disc Kristen burned for her, or maybe one of Alt-J's intros. The gentle sounds of a guitar took them both by surprise.

_A compromise_

_Between honesty and lies-_

The mood was close, but not quite right, and so she hit the next button four times to skip to the more appropriate track, the one Other Max was probably listening to on repeat.

_Don't you know that I'll be around to guide you_

_Through your weakest moments to leave them behind you?_

She rejoined Victoria on the bed, and found that while getting up and away from Victoria for a moment had been a bit of a relief, sitting back down next to her was even more so. For the longest time neither of them spoke, both entranced by the gentle voice and the quiet harmonies, and a few vanishing rays of sunlight that caught the clouds beyond the window.

Victoria took the pause at the end of the song to ask, "How's the whole... everything going?"

"It's not as bad as it has been. How about you? Are you still having nightmares?"

"Plenty. I've seen him seven times now. And that's not counting the nightmares I get. Sometimes those are even worse."

"I have them too, pretty much every night. I don't remember a lot of them. But I know they're bad; bad enough that my teeth hurt from grinding them, if I forget the guard. Stuff about Jefferson, and the dark room, and Nathan." _And kissing_. "I used to be able to share them all with Kate, but, well..."

"You told her?"

Max nodded.

"How'd she take it?"

"She's pretty upset. I guess it's understandable."

Victoria flashed a pained smile. "No shit."

"I think she'll come around. Just needs some time. I did get to talk to her a little yesterday."

"So you're in the group thing now?" As if it was no big deal.

"G-Group thing?" Max tried to say it casually, but Victoria had to have felt the way she froze up.

"Sorry. Don't wanna talk about it?"

"It's private."

"Not that private. Bunch of strangers all go into her room once a week and come out with their makeup runny? Not too hard to figure out. Hell, the walls are thin enough I could probably hear what everyone says if I put my ear up to one."

"Don't you dare!"

"I won't, don't worry. I just couldn't help noticing. And then I noticed you were 'busy' at the same time."

"Why do you care?" Max asked, hoping sincerely that Victoria wasn't expecting an invite.

"I was just wondering, 'cause... he didn't _really_ drug you, right? Not exactly?"

"Oh. No, not in this reality. But I saw enough of it to be just as fucked up. More than enough."

"I know the feeling. Sucks that you gotta lie though."

"It doesn't feel like a lie. Not really. I mean, I make up the details, but the big stuff..."

Victoria nodded. For a moment she looked like she had something to say, but instead she leaned back on the headboard next to Max to relax and enjoy the music.

There was so little to it, just a voice and an acoustic guitar, but it filled the room and removed any need for conversation. Max focused on the feel of Victoria's legs next to hers, in a way that was less sexual than it usually was, and when Victoria slowly leaned over to rest her head on Max's shoulder, she rested hers on Victoria in return.

"I've been thinking," Victoria said a few songs later. "We don't have to go out in public yet if you don't want to. We can just sit and talk, hang out alone together, shit like that."

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

"Okay. Sorry if I was pushing you. I really didn't mean to."

"It's okay. I still want to go to the lighthouse, but yeah, that's not really a date."

"That's okay. This is nice, here, with you."

"Yeah." Max reached down for her laptop as the last few notes of _Broken Arrows_ petered out. She hoped quietly that those words weren't as topical as the first song they'd listened to. "Maybe we could watch a movie?"

"I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed some fanfics tend to hew too closely to the original games soundtrack, and it sometimes bothers me, but I included the song straight from the original game for specific reasons, and not just because the lyrics matched the situation so well.
> 
> Similarly, the phrase 'gave the left boob a squeeze' would normally be enough to make most fanfic readers look for the back button, but I think it was perfect for this context.
> 
> At least Victoria didn't run away this time.


	68. List

Max spent her Saturday morning finding increasingly creative ways to not do homework.

After a nice long and hot shower, and a rare breakfast eaten in the cafeteria, Chloe's petition needed a dozenth poring over to get ready for her 1pm meetup with Dana. An attempt to think of a topic for the upcoming media project turned into daydreaming, which turned into an unplanned nap. Waking up, with Chem and History worksheets still unfinished, and English homework still outstanding, Max considered doing laundry. At least that would be better than waiting until she needed the sniff test to figure out what was still wearable.

TV beckoned, but the guilt from that was finally starting to outweigh the benefits, and she had to find slightly better things to waste her weekend with.

She was sitting on the bed, pondering the chemistry homework without actually doing it, when the call came. She welcomed the interruption at first. Then she saw who it was.

"Hi, Dad." She did her best not to sound too listless, or too nervous, even though getting a phone call was not usually a good sign.

"Hey, Max. How've you been?" His voice wasn't as loud as it usually was on the phone, which meant was talking on speaker. _Maybe he's cooking or something._

"Not too bad," Max answered, and wondered if it was an actual question, or just small talk. "What's up?"

"Well, I have some good news. We've gotten some things in the mail recently that I think you'll be happy to see."

"Uh...." Max wracked her brain for a good few seconds, but couldn't think of anything she'd ordered, especially anything shipped to Seattle.

"They came in big envelopes..."

Max was unprepared for this kind of guessing game, and felt like she was missing something. _Did somebody else buy me stuff? Victoria?_

"One of them's from San Francisco, and one's from Rochester..."

A few more seconds and Max finally made the connection. "Oh! I got in?!"

"Accepted to the San Francisco College of the Arts and Rochester Institute of Technology."

"Cool!" Max realized halfway across the room that she was pacing around in excitement, and did her best to sit still on the bed for at least a moment. Her leg still bounced up and down a little.

"You also got into Whitworth, although I'm not sure why you applied _there_."

"Oh. That was just a backup I guess?"

"Well it looks like you didn't need one. You even got a little scholarship to RIT."

"That's good."

"UCLA wrote back too, but they want to see your midyear grades before they make a final decision. You been keeping up with your classwork?"

"Pretty much?"

"Any big projects going on?"

"Um... I just did an English presentation on Fahrenheit 451." _Why?_

"How did it go?"

Max tamped down her uneasiness at his sudden interest in her studies, and answered brightly. "I did great! It was about censorship, so I read a bit from that old Scary Stories book, and how it keeps getting banned from libraries."

"I remember that one. You liked it so much you kept reading it, even after it gave you a nightmare."

"It did?" She remembered enjoying it, but couldn't recall getting _that_ scared.

"You woke up terrified one night, from some story about a hook stuck on a doorknob."

"Weird. I don't remember. I mean I know that story. Some couple is making out in a car and they hear about a killer with one hand on the radio, and then when they get out there's a hook on the door handle."

"Well," he chuckled, "you must've been like, five at the time. How about photography?"

"Oh! I won second place in a contest. I forget what gallery it was, but it was somewhere in New York?"

"That's great news! Do you get to go there?"

"I don't think so. It was just second. They're displaying it in the gallery though."

"I'm really proud of you. And that'll be great for your portfolio. Which photo won?"

"It was just a selfie of me, right after I woke up. The theme was 'New Beginnings' so it kinda worked."

"That's great! You know, you never did send me a link to your portfolio like you promised. Mom and I can't wait to see how it turned out."

"Oh yeah. I can send that to you right now." Max finally stopped pacing and sat down at her desk. There was a few seconds of silence on the line as Max found the bookmark, then a few more as she copied and pasted it into a new email to him, and Mom for good measure.

"Okay, I just sent it, let me know when you-"

"-Yeah, I see it, right-"

"Great."

"-right there, yeah. We can't wait to look at it."

"Yeah." Things were feeling far more awkward than her conversations with her father had ever been. He wasn't the type to make long phone calls, and Max wasn't the type to survive them.

"How about your friend Victoria?"

_Plus it feels like he's asking me things from a list._

"She's good. You were right when you said to take 101. It was really gorgeous."

"You get to hang out with her a lot?"

"Yeah. We're close."

"Close?"

"Like, _close_ close." Max hadn't planned to tell all, but from the sound of it he already knew. Or at least suspected. She tried not to think about Victoria's offer to go down on her, and got up from her spot at the desk to start pacing the room again. "Kind of... girlfriends?"

"Well congratulations! When did that happen?"

"It sort of started on the trip home?" Max could practically see him smirking through the phone line, probably while taking a twenty from mom. "We're still keeping it quiet for now, but yeah. Thanks."

"Nice. I remember making out with your mom on long car rides when we first started dating. Not while she was driving, but pretty much every other-"

"Right!" Max had learned that already. And she didn't really want to hear about her parents doing icky parent things.

"Well I'm glad I got to meet her, then. She seems very nice."

"Yeah. She is."

Her father paused for a moment, perhaps to let Max keep talking, but the only things that came to mind were wildly inappropriate and embarrassing. Instead, she let him move on to the next topic.

"How's counseling?"

_That._

_That_ was why he called. The last item on his checklist of things to ask her about. All the rest was just working up to it. And Max hadn't thought about it before, but the fact that he was on speaker meant that Mom was listening in too. _Shit_.

Lying to Dr. Leigh had been hard enough, and there was no way she wanted to repeat it, or even could. It took way too long to come up with an appropriate answer.

"I- I'm attending a group therapy now. It's been good."

"I'm glad to hear that. Has it helped at all?"

"A little bit. Things are still hard, and I still have to walk by that bathroom every day, but the other girls are all really nice. We've talked about stuff like... breathing exercises and stuff. And just, you know, grief." 

"I bet you had a lot to talk about this week."

"You mean Jefferson?"

"Yeah. At least one piece of good news."

"I guess?" Max struggled to call Mark Jefferson's murder 'good', but it was equally hard to truly think of it as a bad thing. "Honestly, I still don't know how I feel about it."

"Well, what he did hurt a lot of people. It's not hard to argue the world's better off without him."

That was true, but her father was the _least_ likely person she knew to even think that, let alone argue it. Except for Kate maybe.

"Yeah, but... beaten to death?"

"He hurt my baby girl. I always thought nothing'd ever get me to believe in capital punishment, but I guess that does the trick."

The bile, coming from a man who could hardly stomach R-rated movies, was almost disturbing, and Max decided not to ask his opinion on the boy who actually fired the shot. Instead she decided it was time to end the call creatively. Dana wasn't expected for a long while, but a foot tapping on the desk would make a passable facsimile. The fact that it was so close to noon wouldn't hurt either.

"Well, I don't like to-" _Knock knock_.

She thought timing the knock to interrupt herself was a nice touch; it added enough plausibility to escape any conversation. This was the first time she'd had to use it on her father though.

"BE RIGHT THERE! Shit, sorry Dad, I gotta go. I'm meeting up with Dana."

"Okay, well don't let me hold you up. Have fun! Love you!"

"I will. Love you too, bye!"

Max hung up the phone and took a few deep breaths. She found herself wishing that Dana really was at the door, but it was barely noon, and Dana would probably be late coming back from practice.

An hour was enough time to get an episode of House in, and she deserved it, after such a stressful phone call. At least, that was how she justified it to herself as she grabbed her laptop from the desk and clicked on the Netflix tab.


	69. Public

It had taken most of the afternoon, but the second page of signatures on the Chloe Price Memorial Scholarship petition was finally getting close to full.

The boys floor went quickly enough, and Max's hallway was easy--if slow. With Dana at Max's side, getting names on the page was easy, but each signature was followed by at least five minutes of chatter which only occasionally involved Max at all. Juliet had managed to hold them up for twenty-two minutes, even though she'd just had lunch with Dana a few hours ago.

The other half of the girls floor--the side Max hardly ever had reason to set foot in--wasn't quite as smooth sailing. Dana wasn't quite as chummy with the residents, and Max could hardly attach names to any of them. 

At least they were almost done, and there weren't too many doors in this section.

A few of the occupants eyed the pair uneasily through the gap in their door, and needed some convincing to put their names down, but most of them were happy to sign anyways.

Most of them.

"What do you want? And what the hell's _she_ doing here?" Courtney's head poked out of door 226, speaking to Dana as if Max were a mangy puppy that had followed her home.

Max's introduction had the over-animation of something she'd been saying over and over again, all afternoon. After so many repetitions it was getting hard to not sound like a robot, or some kind of horrifyingly perky saleswoman. "Hi! I'm collecting signatures to create a Chloe Price Memorial Scholarship for women, and I-"

"Seriously?"

"Y-yeah, I-"

"What do you care?" Courtney's tone made it clear that _she_ didn't.

"Uh..."

Much to Max's relief, Dana cut in. "What's your damage?"

Courtney moved back a few inches at the rebuke, but her expression didn't change.

"Seriously, you can't even be civil? Hear the girl out."

Max gave silent thanks for Dana's support, and struggled to get back into her grove. The fact that she couldn't exactly tell the whole truth was making most of these conversations a little tricky, but at least now she had an afternoon worth of practice.

"I, uh... She was a really close friend of mine, back before I moved to Seattle. They named the dormitory after-"

Max's phone chimed gently, and she forced herself to ignore it.

"-after Rachel Amber, but Chloe deserves a memorial too, don't you think?"

"No! In case you're forgetting, she got kicked out! Seriously, I don't know how you can even use the words 'Chloe' and 'scholarship' in the same sentence."

"I..."

Fortunately, Dana came to save the day again:

"The girl _died_ , 'cause of Jefferson and Nathan! 'cause she was trying to stop them!"

"And I'm supposed to feel guilty about that? Not like I helped them."

"We all ignored the signs."

Courtney let out a loud groan, as if the mere act of talking to the two of them was a painful concession.

Dana tried a different angle. "Look, what if you were next in line to get drugged and taken down there? She probably saved your ass!"

Courtney looked chastised enough, but no more inclined to put her name down. Max doubted Courtney was even remotely innocent enough to qualify, but kept her mouth shut.

Dana tried one last tack. "Fine. Think what you want, but imagine we hand this petition in and the whole student body's on it, _except_ you. Think nobody'll notice?"

Courtney rolled her eyes and yanked the borrowed clipboard out of Max's hands. "Whatever," she said as she scribbled her name hastily. 

"Thanks." Max put on a sweet, if slightly automatic, smile that Courtney probably didn't deserve.

Courtney shoved the clipboard back at Max's chest. "That how you got Victoria to fuck you? Doe eyes and a bunch of veiled threats?"

"N- No! We-" Max cut herself off before she admitted to anything, but the damage was done. "We're not..."

Dana looked surprised enough.

"Sorry, was that supposed to be a secret?" Courtney did not look at all sorry. "I don't blame her. I wouldn't want to be seen in public with such a loser either."

Being called a loser by a Vortex club member was hardly anything new, and last week it would have been easy enough to brush off. But then Victoria let go of her hand, and Max had spent the entire week trying to reassure herself that the gesture didn't mean exactly that. She hadn't been entirely convincing. Hearing it confirmed by another source cut deep, no mater how evil the source was.

"Hey! What the hell-" Dana was cut off by the sharp crack of Courtney's door slamming.

"God, Max, I'm sorry. I should've known Courtney'd be a total bitch about it."

Max took a second to shake her head and collect her thoughts. "That's _her_ fault. Not yours."

"Still, I could've just gotten that one myself."

"I'd almost say I don't _want_ her to sign if she's like that. But the school's just going to look at the numbers."

"Yeah. I probably shouldn't ask, but..."

Dana didn't even need to finish the question.

"Yeah, me and Victoria are a kind of a _thing_."

"I never would have guessed. You and... her."

Max saw Dana trying not to look too incredulous, and smiled. "Not exactly a match made in heaven, is it."

"Maybe not, but they say opposites attract?" Dana chuckled suddenly. "Are we allowed to say that when it's two girls?"

"Probably. I don't know."

"It's true though! You're so sweet and shy and caring and Victoria's... I mean..."

"Not?" Max smiled as she knocked on the next-to-last door. "It's okay. I know she's not Mary Poppins. I'm okay with that. She's not a bad person, and she can be caring, in her own way."

As soon as the door opened Max launched into her well-practiced spiel. "Hi, we're collecting signatures to create a Chloe Price Memorial Scholarship for women, and I was hoping you would add your name to the list?"

The girl in the doorway had adorable red bangs and a hesitant look about her. "I guess? She's the girl who was shot, right?"

Max hid a slight wince as she handed over the clipboard. "Yeah."

"Right. That sucks." The girl looked like she would have preferred to like a Facebook page instead, but signed anyways. "Do you really need my phone number?"

"Yeah. It's just to prove these are real students, not just random strangers in Nigeria or something. The school board's pretty old-fashioned."

The girl continued to look uncomfortable as she jotted down her phone number. It wasn't like Max was enjoying this either; if it were up to her she'd've made that Facebook page and let the Internet take care of the rest. Dana was probably getting bored in this half of the dormitory, and it was coming up on dinner time.

"Thanks," Max said a little too brightly as she accepted the clipboard and watched the door close, then she and Dana were alone in the hallway once again, and the tension dissipated.

"For what it's worth," Dana said, "I'm sure Victoria has good reasons for not being public."

"Yeah, she had all sorts of justifications when she told me to keep it quiet. Sometimes I even believe them."

"I know what you mean. I mean, her dating you would be..."

"A PR disaster?"

"Out of character. At least compared to how she tries to put on."

"Honestly, Courtney didn't bother me as much as what Kate said."

"What did she say?"

"Pretty much what you'd guess. That it's not good for me, that she thinks Victoria's evil, that sort of thing."

"I can't really blame her, after the video and everything. She doesn't have all that many friends, you know. I try, but she's never really opened up like she did with you."

"Yeah. I feel like I'm caught in between the two. Kate's the sweetest friend I've ever had, but I also want Victoria to be okay."

"After the whole 'flu' thing?"

"Yeah."

Door 228--the last one in the hallway, finally--opened to reveal long purple hair that Max recognized immediately. "Alyssa!"

"Hey, Max. What's up?"

"I'm just getting signatures for a petition. It's for a scholarship in memory of Chloe."

"Oh. Yeah, that's cool." Alyssa reached for the clipboard and Alyssa scanned the page briefly before putting her name down at the bottom. "I can't believe you got Courtney to sign. Usually she's too busy clubbing baby seals."

Max giggled. "We, uh, managed to appeal to her self-interest."

"Right." Alyssa smirked.

"We could've just told her it was a petition for a Forever 21 on campus," Dana quipped. "She'd've signed that real quick."

The three of them shared in a laughter that made it easy to forget the cut that Courtney left.

"I didn't know you were stuck living next to her," Max said as Alyssa filled out her phone number.

"Eh, it's not so bad. Every once in a while she sacrifices a puppy or something, but she's pretty quiet about it at least."

Max had expected to spend the afternoon in a foul mood, but there was no better cure, apparently, than having friends to laugh alongside. She tried to think of something else to talk about, but before she could extend the conversation Alyssa handed back the clipboard, and waved at Dana as she closed the door. "Can't wait for Sunday. See you then!"

That was the last signature for the day, and Max breathed a sigh of relief as she tucked the clipboard under her arm and followed Dana back towards the main hallway.

"What _was_ Victoria up to anyways?"

Max scrambled to pick up the dropped conversation, and failed. "What?"

"When she had the 'flu'."

"Oh. Uh... it's not really my business to tell anyone."

"That's fair. I'm not even sure it would matter, really. She's still queen bee, but not for long. It's just a matter of time."

"Really?"

"She's been missing meetings and acting up a lot. But mostly she just doesn't command the respect she used to. It hasn't come to a vote yet, but when it does somebody else'll be on top."

"Who?"

"Well I kinda wanna take it over, make it a force for good instead of rich bitch club. But they need someone whose parents are loaded, to sponsor events like the Prescotts used to, and I don't qualify."

"That's too bad. I bet you'd make a great queen bee."

Dana laughed gently. "Maybe. But I don't really care as long as it's not _her_." She glanced at the hallway behind them, toward the door that had been slammed in their faces. "I'd probably quit."

"I thought you liked being in it."

"I used to, but it's not much fun any more. There's so much catfighting and backstabbing we never actually do any cool stuff. Which reminds me! Alyssa and I are doing a thing in Portland next weekend. Sunday afternoon probably, since we have Monday off. I haven't asked everyone yet but I bet Kate'll be there, and I'm asking pretty much everyone else. Juliet and Stella and stuff."

"Oh! Yeah, was that what she was, uh..." Max gestured back to Alyssa's door.

"Yeah."

The nervous knot in Max's stomach was lessened by the memory of their thrift store visit, and movies at Alyssa's house, and Max pushed aside her anxiety for now. "Sure!"

"I'd even be okay if you wanted to bring Victoria. As a friend! You know."

That idea inspired more than just nervousness, and Max mentally dismissed it outright, but decided to let Dana down gently later. "Maybe?"

"My dads are letting me borrow the big van, so there's always room for more. I'll text you more details when I get 'em nailed down."

Back in their usual hall, Max said her goodbyes to Dana and pulled out her phone.

She'd missed three messages from her girlfriend:

 **Victoria:** I like the whole lantern lights thing you have going on. Nice and romantic

 **Victoria:** You really should remember to lock your door though ;)

Then a few minutes later:

 **Victoria:** Come on, where the hell are you?

Max did her best to keep her face impassive, but her mind started running a three minute mile. This version of Victoria wasn't going to trash her room, but after last night all sorts of possibilities sprung to mind, ones that made Max at turns anxious and excited.

She opened her door quickly, expecting to see Victoria sitting on the couch expectantly, or perhaps reclined on the bed wearing nothing but a filthy smile. Instead...

Victoria wasn't there at all.

She probably hadn't been; everything was undisturbed, in perfect order as far as Max could tell.

_False alarm._

**Max:** Where are you?

 **Victoria:** Had some Vortex Club shit to clean up, sorry

 **Victoria:** But I left a little surprise for you to find

There was nothing out of place on the bedside table, nor anything new on her coffee table, or desk, or even amongst the piles of clothing and trash on the floor. The lights Victoria had complimented were off just as they always were.

 **Max:** Where is the surprise?

 **Victoria:** Spoilers, darling

 **Max:** I don't see anything

_Maybe she's just fucking with me._

**Victoria:** I'm sure you'll stumble across it soon enough

 **Victoria:** Enjoy ;)


	70. Rocks

Sunday mornings were always quiet on the Blackwell campus, even in the best of weather. Now, with a bitter ocean wind whipping up the hill and across the athletic field, there wasn't a soul around to watch Max clamber into Victoria's Miata.

_Just like she planned, I'm sure_. They hadn't even walked to the car together, Max had just gotten a text message saying "Meet me at the sidewalk by the covered walkway", and she showed up just as Victoria was pulling up to the curb.

_For all that 'no big deal' shit she said, she's still acting like she's terrified of being seen with me in public._

Max still waited until the first stop sign, after they were safely past the dorms, to give her girlfriend a peck on the cheek.

"Should I put something on?" Max motioned to the stereo.

"Nah, it's just like five minutes."

They spent the first of those five minutes with Victoria driving and Max quietly browsing Instagram, resisting the temptation to ask Victoria what kind of surprise she'd left. After a few pages she saw a username that reminded her there was something she should mention.

"I talked to Courtney yesterday. She kinda guessed about us."

Victoria sighed in frustration. "It's okay, I'll handle it. It'll be tricky, but she'll keep her mouth shut if she knows what's good for her."

"Okay."

"What the hell were you talking to her for anyways?"

"I was out getting signatures with Dana. I didn't see your text 'til later, sorry."

"For that petition thing? What's she on about anyways? Trying to earn brownie points with the new principal or something?"

"It wasn't Dana's idea. I started it."

"Oh. _Why?_ "

That was an easy question, one that Max had answered what felt like a hundred times yesterday: "Cause she deserves to be remembered just as much as Rachel does."

"I mean why _you_? Just cause you saw her... in the bathroom doesn't mean you're responsible. You got enough shit going on."

Max wondered how much Victoria would believe, before deciding on the non-supernatural explanation. For now.

"I could have done something."

"Yeah, and gotten your own ass shot too."

"I had the power to save her, and I didn't."

"'The power'? Don't be stupid. You're ninety pounds soaking wet. The only 'power' you had was deciding whether to get yourself killed or not."

"No, I _know_ I could stopped him." Max imbued the statement with as much certainty as she could muster, and a touch of indignation. _And I'm at least a hundred._

"Just like you 'know' the butterfly did it? Someday you're gonna have to stop being all weird and cryptic and actually tell me what the hell's going on in your head, Caulfield."

"Someday," Max agreed. "Just like you'll tell me what you were doing in my room yesterday."

"That's not fair. I was just trying to give you a nice surprise. I told you, you'll find it, and you'll like it. If you really need a hint then... maybe you should take a closer look at your photo wall when we get back."

Max had searched her room pretty thoroughly, but that spot had never even occurred to her, and she hadn't been in the habit of looking at it lately. After Friday's conversation, the idea that Victoria left a surprise photograph left Max's pulse racing, but she tried her best to act nonchalant. "Oh."

That excitement lasted only a few minutes though. Max had been so eager to look for the butterfly again that the dangers of visiting the lighthouse hadn't even crossed her mind. But as the Miata pulled lazily into the trailhead parking lot memories hit her full-force.

Some of them were happy, like the time her mother had taken her to try out the pair of binoculars Max got for her 11th birthday. Others... not so much.

The last time she'd walked up this trail--at least, the last time she could remember--it was with Chloe, in the midst of a storm worse than she'd ever seen. When she walked back down the storm was gone, but then so was Chloe.

"Hey, what's on your mind?" They were a few hundred feet up the trail when the silence got to be too much for Victoria.

Max tried her best to come back to reality. "Sorry, I was just thinking about Chloe."

"So you're really serious about-" Victoria stumbled briefly on a rocky section of the path. "-this petition thing?"

"I am." Max wondered if she should have warned Victoria about the trail. A miniskirt and two inch heels were hardly suited for the weather or the terrain, and there was already a run in the left knee of her stockings from a stray branch. _Maybe she has something fancy going on this afternoon?_

"Why you though? I mean, it's not like you knew her or anything."

"I did!"

"How?"

Max took a deep breath and prepared herself. "It was five years ago, before I moved up to Seattle." She hadn't been keeping it a secret on purpose, but now was just about the worst time to be having this conversation.

"Wait, you used to live here?"

"Yeah. I was born in Tilamook County Hospital, and I went to Arcadia Elementary and Middle school, with Chloe. And things were happy."

"So you knew her _before_ she was Arcadia Bay's biggest public menace."

"Not just knew. We were best friends, ever since before I can remember. We biked everywhere, went on adventures dressed as pirates. Built forts out in the woods. Played Double Dash in our pajamas while Chloe's mom cooked breakfast."

Gaps in the trees afforded them a few glimpses of their destination up ahead, which did little to make Max feel better.

"Then her father died in a car accident in 2008. And everything pretty much went downhill for her. He was the sweetest dad ever, and then all of a sudden he was gone. I guess it messed both of us up pretty bad, but it was way worse for her.

"And then the housing market crashed and, well... I wasn't old enough to understand it at the time, but my mom's career always meant we'd have to move eventually. You can't be a high-powered lawyer in a town of 2000, and suddenly we could actually afford a place in Seattle. It ended up being just, like, a few weeks after the accident. We were both heartbroken, but after a few months I stopped responding to her texts. I don't even know why. I was afraid I guess. Didn't know how to talk to her when things weren't happy, and after a while I felt so guilty I couldn't even look at the chat window."

"Shit, Max."

"I mean, she really needed me and I threw her away like trash for five years, then a week after we finally made up I let her die alone on the bathroom floor."

Past the last few switchbacks, they finally emerged from the woods, and the lighthouse stood tall and indifferent in front of them.

"You seriously need to stop beating yourself up about that. Shit happens, sometimes you just can't stop it."

"I could have. It gave me the choice."

"...what?"

"In the bathroom. It... I had a vision of what would happen if I pulled the fire alarm and scared Nathan off. It was a whole week of me and Chloe together, running all over the place in her truck, looking for Rachel, and... falling in love. She was the first person I ever really... and everything was happy at first, and I almost let myself believe I could have that, but then it got worse, and worse, and so many people died. Somehow, saving her destroyed the entire town. So when the vision ended I just sat there sobbing in the back of the bathroom while he pulled the trigger."

She turned away from Victoria's expression of shock, and towards the ocean, as if the butterfly was somewhere out there.

"I still don't know why I saw all that shit."

She hadn't been planning on shouting again, but it seemed like the thing to do, even if all she could actually see was the rocky cliff leading down to the waves and spray of a sea that couldn't care less what she had to say.

"It just made everything worse! Knowing there was a future where she wasn't dead, no matter how awful... and I chose this one anyways. Might as well've been _me_ pulling the trigger. And Kate didn't need to see her kill herself. And Victoria, in the dark room all the time. It's not fair. She doesn't deserve this!"

"Max! It's okay."

Max felt Victoria's hand rest gently on her shoulder, and she shook it off and looked back at Victoria.

"No! It's not okay. You don't deserve any of this!"

"I do. All of this shit happened because of me."

"No."

"I'm the reason she's dead. Not you." Victoria shivered in the brisk ocean wind. "I should be seeing Mark Jefferson's face every time I close my eyes."

"That's not true."

"No, I f-fucking deserve it!"

"Holy shit Victoria nobody deserves that."

"Wanna bet?"

Victoria put enough self-hatred behind those words that Max couldn't muster up any disagreement.

"I knew what he did."

"Wh-what?"

"Nathan. I saw it. Saw him. Dosing... Kate's drink."

All the protests Max had prepared, that people make mistakes and can be forgiven, that Victoria wasn't a bad person at heart, evaporated.

"I caught his eye and he smiles all innocently like it's a bit of harmless fun. And I knew him. Or I thought I did. So I just shut my mouth and whip out my phone. Figured something was going to go down. And sure enough, I catch Kate Marsh Gone Wild on camera.

"I already know what you're going to say. Like, didn't I think about what would happen? How could I do that to another woman? What kind of monster am I? I'm the kind who smiles and live streams it while someone I know is being molested, then lines up to shove my tongue down her throat. Then just when you think I can't possibly be more of a bitch, I let him walk off with her, like I'm in some kind of fucking denial about what he's gonna do to her next. Might as well have raped her myself. I basically _did_.

"And then he _murdered somebody_ , because I didn't stop him. _I_ could have saved your friend, if I'd done something, _anything_ , other than just get in line to assault Kate. So tell me again, why I don't deserve to spend every night of my fucking life dreaming about that place."

And Max couldn't.

"I thought so."

"Why?"

"'cause I wanted to! 'cause I thought it'd be fun. Or maybe just 'cause I'm a sick, selfish cunt."

Max had trouble disagreeing with that too.

"Who else knows?"

"Just Kate. I told her ages ago and she forgave me for it. Can you believe that?"

"Yes, I can."

"Well good for you, but it's not so easy for me. I kept telling myself it'd come back around. Like she's holding it over me till the right time and someday she'll call in a big favor, or just name me in that lawsuit. Then sometimes I think she's actually serious. I don't know which is worse."

"The whole perfect angel act she puts on... it isn't an act. She's really, seriously that pure-hearted, and you..."

"Yeah." Victoria looked past Max, past the lighthouse and the cliffs, toward the empty horizon.

"You let Nathan drug her and haul her away from a party to..." Max hesitated, and decided not to finish the sentence. "You _are_ sick."

"That's what I just fucking told you."

"Maybe..." Max got the distinct feeling that if she said what was really on her mind she'd regret it, so she swallowed her next thought and began hiking silently back towards the trailhead.

Victoria followed without a word--Max didn't look back, but she heard the crack of a branch, and the crunch of gravel often enough to be sure the other girl hadn't fallen behind. The car chirped happily as Max neared it, and Max slammed the door and sat in the sumptuous interior, waiting for the other girl to catch up.

Victoria's hands shivered heavily as she turned the key, and even after a minute of sitting with the heat on full blast her shoulders still shook with cold as she put the car in reverse.

Max looked at Victoria's outfit again. "Why did you even wear that? Did you think the lighthouse was indoors or something?"

"I was just being stupid. Back to the dorm?"

"Yeah," Max said shortly. Continuing with their plans for an adventurous afternoon sure wasn't an option.

The silence was almost physically painful; the entire trip passed without further conversation, until Blackwell was within sight. "I'm sorry," Victoria finally said. "For everything. For what I did to Kate and Chloe. And you. And for not telling you. I'll understand if you never wanna see me again."

The car came to a gentle stop at the same curb, but the peck that Max had greeted Victoria with when she'd first gotten in seemed so distant now; from forever ago, from another universe.

"I... just, not now," Max said as she reached for the door handle.

Leaving the dorms separately had felt like an insult, but now, returning to them, Max was glad to get out early and walk back to her room alone while Victoria parked.

There were three joints left in the hollow back of her stereo speaker, and she considered lighting one up as she threw her jacket onto the couch and collapsed into bed, still wearing her jeans.

Max at least remembered to put in her mouth guard this time, before she pulled up her laptop and Netflixed herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hinted at this way back in chapter 15, but left it vague for 55 chapters--over a year of writing. That's so long ago it hardly feels like the same work sometimes, but every once in a while I go back to the beginning and read everything (wincing at some of the earlier chapters), and for the most part it still holds together.


	71. Wasted

Max's morning alarm blared through a hazy fog of half sleep, and her leaden limbs stirred to silence it. After a halfhearted second's consideration, instead of the usual swipe left to snooze once or twice, her thumb flicked right, turning it off completely, and she pulled the covers over her head to block out the light that cascaded through the windows onto her floor and bedspread.

Not like she wanted to go to History class anyways. Or math, or pretty much anything for that matter. Attending was practically a waste of time anyways, at this point. _If I don't get tangents, how the hell am I going to understand arc tangents?_

When she finally opened her eyes and kept them opened, nearly three hours had passed since her alarm. That meant Mrs. Newton was already passing back last week's assignment, one that Max had finished and handed in without being sure of a single answer. Not seeing the resulting grade was just another reason she was justified in sleeping in.

 _As long as I work on school shit it should be okay, right?_ she told herself. There was plenty of that due, or more likely overdue; at this point she was struggling even to keep track of what she wasn't handing in.

She dashed off a quick text to Brooke:

 **Max:** Any chance you could help me out with math again this week?

 **Max:** Having a lot of trouble with trigonometry

She waited a few minutes and got no answer; Brooke was probably in class like Max was supposed to be.

She managed to go almost twenty minutes without thinking of Victoria, until halfway through her Inbox Max saw an email about the next Vortex Club party, and then she couldn't _stop_ thinking about Victoria. _Maybe Taylor should've just let her drink herself to death._

She tried to shoo away the toxic feelings, but they kept coming back, until she had to put on an episode of something she hated to get her mind off of things. _Family Guy_ fit the bill.

Around the fourteenth time Peter Griffin started singing _Surfin' Bird_ she slammed the laptop shut and began sobbing.

This time Kate wouldn't be there to hug her and make her feel better. She couldn't be. _And whose fault is that?_

 _She even warned me,_ Max realized. _She knew it was a bad idea, and she was right, wasn't she? She knew about everything. And I just blew her off 'cause I couldn't keep my fucking hands off of Victoria._ Her fingers curled inward, and she clenched her fists tightly; it hurt, digging her nails into her palms like that, but that just made her want to do it harder.

Max needed, desperately needed to burst into Kate's room begging for forgiveness, and cry on her shoulder 'til Kate's sweet words made the world right again. But that would require nerve that Max didn't possess right now, and anyways Kate--like Brooke and Victoria--would be in class, meaning that that particular catharsis would have to wait.

The quiet of her room started giving her too little to focus on, and an image began to intrude through the pain in her palms--one of Victoria hauling a drugged-up Kate to her lips and... Max opened the laptop again before she could think about that any further.

By lunch time she'd lost count of how many episodes had played. By the time math lab would be starting, even her laptop was struggling to hold her attention, and she was starting to wish she had something more than three-week-old potato chips in her closet.

 _Caf opens at four. I guess those'll hold me 'til then?_ she thought as she tossed the laptop aside again and slid out of bed. Another self stared at her through the mirror, disheveled but at least dressed. _I wouldn't even have to change_.

 _I could go to photography first. At least do_ one _useful thing today._ But the thought of the classroom, and who would be there, killed that idea the moment it was born.

At that point Max remembered, seemingly out of nowhere, that there was a surprise from Victoria lurking on her photo wall. 

She didn't put much effort into her search, nor did she have to. Once she knew where to look it only took a few seconds to spot Victoria's photo, in the bottom right-hand corner of the wall nearly hidden by Max's pillow. She must've borrowed Max's old Polaroid to take the shot, and affixed it with a bit of sticky tack leftover from a photo reclaimed for the portfolio.

Max pushed the pillow aside to get a full view, and blushed immediately.

She'd expected something dirty, and that was exactly what she found, but for some reason the first thing she focused on was Victoria's face. It wasn't just that she was afraid to stare at the rest of the photo; she was surprised, almost entranced, by Victoria's smile. It was sweet, almost joyful, and it seemed impossible that this was the same person who...

Max ripped the photo from the wall, and flung it as hard as she could toward the trash can. It curved through the air and hit the wall above the couch, where it landed anticlimactically.

Max walked over to the couch with a sigh and flopped down on it, scooping the photo up and finally allowing herself to look at the rest of it. It was about as explicit as Max could have hoped for; it cut off just below Victoria's belly button, but nothing above was left to the imagination.

It was the sexiest selfie Max had ever seen, and it was partly because Victoria wasn't even trying to be sexy. She was just lying back on Max's couch, seemingly overjoyed at the chance to give Max a naughty surprise. The lighting, and the skill with which the picture had been framed, didn't hurt.

Of course, it was also sexy for more conventional reasons, and the sight of Victoria topless caught Max's breath in her throat. It wasn't the first pair of breasts she'd seen by a long shot, nor the biggest or most perfectly curved, but these were for _her_ , and she could see herself wrapping her hands around them, or running her fingertips down the sides of Victoria's taught, and slightly tan, belly, or just waking up next to that gorgeous body.

_Or next to Chloe's._

Max shook her head and looked away from the photo, but that thought, that blue hair wouldn't go away so easily. She crushed the snapshot in her fist.

_I could've had her instead. We would've driven off, and everything would've been perfect, and sweet, and hot, and..._

She'd told herself so many times _it wouldn't be like that_ but she could still see it, could hardly stop seeing it all day. Chloe and Max riding off into the proverbial sunset in a broke-ass pickup, Chloe taking the wheel and taking them away from everything that was hurting Max now: Jefferson and time travel and this _stupid fucking school_.

In that moment Max hated Victoria, almost as much as Victoria hated herself. It burned inside her, the feeling that she should have been with Chloe, in a reality where nobody died, and the only worries Max had were choosing a college and figuring out how to make up five years of absence to her best friend.

She flung the balled up photo at the trash can, and it only missed by a few inches, hitting the wall and falling down the gap behind it. This time, Max didn't get up. Instead she cradled her head between her knees, and sobbed until snot ran down her thigh.

A few minutes of crying like that usually left her refreshed, or at least drained enough to function for a while, but even after the tears dried the Chloe she was imagining wouldn't leave her alone, and the leaden feeling in her stomach wouldn't go away.

She had a split second fantasy of taking a swan dive off of the roof, but even in this state she didn't love the idea, and opted for the next-best way to end the thoughts. It meant getting up off the couch, but so would anything else. Besides, this option required fewer stairs.

There was a dirty towel on the floor along with the rest of last week's clothing, and she halfheartedly shoved it toward the bottom of the door with her foot. _It's Oregon, nobody cares,_ she thought as she walked towards the stereo and retrieved the third-to-last joint and a lighter to go with it.

The window creaked open with some effort, and Max sat at the desk below it, taking a shaky puff of weed every few breaths, and slouching back in her desk chair as the familiar calm washed over her.

 _Just like Chloe did,_ Max thought as she took an especially deep breath and threw her head back, exhaling a pillar of smoke toward the ceiling through pursed lips. Remembering wasn't so painful with a good high going on. _She said she 'needed' this, didn't she? And I thought she was just making excuses._ Now Max needed it just as much--maybe more, some days. _Like today. Probably tomorrow too at the rate things are going._

The voices and sounds in the hallway came as a surprise, almost as much as the jingle of her phone from the nightstand. _Well shit, I guess classes are over_. She tossed the last bit of paper into a half-empty water bottle sitting next to her desk, and walked through the haze of her room to check door lock and her messages.

 **Brooke:** I have some time right now before Science Olympics, or maybe something after class on Thursday.

She looked herself over in the mirror: red eyes, two-day-ripe clothing, and a damp snot-stain on her jeans. And there was no way she didn't reek of weed. _Shit. I can't talk to Brooke like this. Definitely not Kate. And I guess I'll have to wait til later to hit the caf._

 **Max:** Thursday yeah

She didn't bother with the pretense of attempting homework. _I've already wasted most of the day, why stop now?_ She didn't even bother to set her alarm to wake her up before the cafeteria closed as she collapsed into bed and finally left the day behind.


	72. Not Looking

Never mind Victoria--Imagination was now Max's worst enemy.

After waking up to no less than four concerned messages from friends and teachers about her absence yesterday, Max had wrenched herself out of bed and dragged her sorry ass to photography class. Even though she would have rather been almost anywhere else. Anywhere away from _her_.

Every time she looked at Victoria she could see it happening. Some white powder being dropped into a drink, while Victoria watched and smirked, then Kate being passed around like a blow-up doll. Max hadn't even been to that party, never watched the video, but she could picture it clearly enough anyways. So Max looked away.

Looking at Kate was even harder; it brought to mind the same images, but they were uglier when Max was looking at that perfect face. _Now it bothers me?_ Max shook her head and tried to focus on the blackboard. _How about a week ago? I should've been horrified then. Not..._ Max winced at the thought, and tried to put the images out of her mind as she looked away again.

The only other thing left to focus on was the rest of the Photography class. It didn't make her feel any better, but neither did it make things worse, and she settled on them as the next best distraction.

Alyssa's hair was the first thing to catch her eye. It was right in front of her, and who could miss it? But the dye job was in need of a touch-up; the deep purple had faded almost to a shade of lavender, and black roots were starting to show in spots. Purple hair, trashy novels, and a whole lot of bad luck. That was the sum of everything Max knew about Alyssa Anderson; other than that she might as well have been a complete stranger.

Max tried in vain to remember the name of that chubby Hispanic kid who sat front and center. She really should know. He was always kind, and in the other timeline he'd drawn a rather fetching portrait of her, but in this one they'd hardly said two words to each other.

Then Hayden and Stella, sharing a table on the left side of the classroom. Most of what Max knew about them was from things they'd shared in English class: Hayden lowered his guard every once in a while to talk about identity politics or quilting with his mother; Stella'd alluded a few times to a childhood straight out of a Dickens novel. As friends, the number of conversations she'd had with them could be counted on one hand, or less in this reality.

All of them friendly, decent people; all of them could have been a friend to Max now, when she could really use one. Instead she sat at the back of the classroom, hidden behind the computer screen as always, not hearing a word the teacher said, nor feeling like she was a part of the class at all.

And then there was Taylor, sitting next to Victoria. Bitchy but not a bad person, or at least she didn't have to be. Taylor cared for Victoria, a lot. Maybe a bit too much. She was theatre besties with Tyra. To Max, she was another stranger in a classroom full of them.

_Would she still care that much if she knew?_

Victoria sat uncomfortably next to Taylor, ankles crossed and slouching more than usual. Max looked away again.

Mrs. Cameron got up from her spot at the desk to write another bullet point on the blackboard, and Max finally looked at her. _Clueless old church lady. No taste of her own, not one artistic bone in her fat-ass body. How the hell are we supposed to learn anything from that?_

Max didn't fully hear the question Mrs. Cameron asked of the class. But she heard Victoria's answer.

"Life of the author plus 70 years." As if nothing was wrong. As if she hadn't just doomed Max's best friend to bleed to death on a cold tile floor. _Life plus seventy years. That'd be fitting. Just throw away the key and see how she likes that._

Max looked at the clock on her cell phone. Still ten minutes before the bell. That was around when it started, wasn't it? Distracted in class, then a vision of the tornado that was going to level the town.

_Then..._

Max did her best not to think of it, but she could see herself walking towards the bathroom again, could hear Syd Matters playing in her earphones, and then when she got to the bathroom door she couldn't stop herself from going in.

She closed her eyes. _Better caught sleeping in class than crying._

But that was a bad idea for a different reason, she quickly opened them to try and get the image of the bathroom out of her mind.

She slouched down even further in her chair, hiding herself fully behind the monitor, and hoped that she could manage her deep breathing exercise quietly enough to not draw any attention.

Today, however, the breathing wasn't enough; she could feel sobs coming, she could feel everything falling apart, and finally she pushed it all down as hard as she could, for just long enough to escape, and stood up.

"Sorry, I really need to..."

"Go ahead, take care of yourself," Mrs. Cameron said as Max hurried to the exit, careful to avoid looking at any of her classmates. "You're all adults, you don't need my permission."

"Right." Max closed the door behind her just a touch too loudly, and slumped down against the wall next to it. She was lucky enough to have picked the side of the alcove that gave her a view of doors to the southern stairwell rather than the main hallway; she was miserable enough already without having to stare at _that_.

Her hand balled into a fist, seemingly on its own, and she slammed it against the tile wall behind her, once, twice, as hard as she could, but not as hard as she deserved. It made a quiet smack against the unyielding surface, and left a satisfying soreness in her wrist.

She could still hear Mrs. Cameron's voice filtering through the door, so instead of hitting the wall again she forced herself to open the fist and wrapped her arms around her knees.

 _Sick fuck. 'Who cares about Kate, time to make out.', right?_ Her hand clamped onto her lower leg, and tightened until it hurt.

The pain wasn't so bad--it gave her something to focus on. _Not like I didn't earn it._

She found herself squeezing harder, digging her nails into her shin until she couldn't think about anything else. Her knuckles went white--if she hadn't had a manicure two weeks ago she might have drawn blood through her jeans--but she still didn't stop.

A short cry escaped Max's throat, along with a gasp as she finally released her grip, and moved her hand to the other leg to repeat the ritual, just as painfully but a little more quietly the second time around.

She'd told herself when she made her escape that she'd be back to class soon, but... _not gonna fucking happen_ , obviously. Instead she balled her fists tightly, struck the floor a few more times, then dug her nails into her palm. _God, just make it stop._ What 'it' was, Max wasn't quite sure--perhaps the pain, or the thoughts, or _everything_.

She knew she should have moved when the bell rang. The rest of the class would be pouring out of the room soon, and they shouldn't see her like this.

_Fuck it._

Max didn't even flinch as the door opened.

"...and I can't believe she was trying to pass that shit off. As if I don't know what a real Birkin looks like."

Just the sound of Victoria's voice twisted Max's face even further into a scowl, and she looked up at the students coming out of the classroom. First was Taylor, who didn't even notice Max sitting there, so obsessed she was with whatever inane thing Victoria was telling her. _What the fuck even_ is _a Birkin?_

Then the queen bitch herself, looking every bit as poised and perfect as she usually did--perhaps even more so--until her gaze settled on Max, and she flinched at the glare Max was shooting at her, and at Taylor, and the rest of the fucking world.

After a second of eye contact Victoria broke it off and continued down the hall, hurrying slightly to catch up to Taylor. "I mean... they didn't... didn't even bother to get the shape right, you know? And they used enamel clasps. No way that isn't some cheap Chinatown bullshit that was like..." Her voice faded into the noise of students finally free, but Max didn't stop looking down the hall towards Victoria, even as the rest of the class passed through the door in front of Max, ignoring her or glancing uneasily in her direction as they passed.

Then Kate came out.

"Are you okay?"

After everything Max had done, that was just about the cruelest thing Kate could have said. It felt like a knife in between Max's ribs, and the fact that Kate hadn't asked it out of spite or I-told-you-so self-righteousness drove it in deeper, and gave it a good hard twist in Max's heart.

"I don't deserve to be."

"Stop that."

"Wh-What?" Max was not used to being scolded by Kate, and the tone of voice threw her for a loop.

"Stop thinking like that! I want you to be happy. Even if it's with her."

"I can't. I can't even stand to look at her. You were right; she told me what she did and you were right. I hate her."

"I... thought you already knew..." At least Kate didn't sound upset anymore.

"Just about what she did to you. Not that she _knew_."

Kate took a deep breath and held out her hand to Max. "Come on."

"Where?" Max asked as she slowly reached her arm out toward Kate.

"The cafeteria. You're having lunch with me. Okay?"

"Okay," Max said weakly as Kate hauled her up from the floor. "I am pretty hungry."

Kate held firmly onto Max's tender hand as they started down the hall, as if to keep her from escaping. "Perfect."


	73. Choice

As soon as they stepped into the cafeteria, the sights and smells of food being prepared reminded Max of how hungry she was.

Since Kate was watching Max took care to load her tray up with things to eat there, rather than to sneak into her messenger bag and squirrel away in her dorm closet. Even with that restriction her eyes told her to take two grilled cheese sandwiches, a large mug of tomato soup, and two cups of pudding, honestly thinking she could finish it all off, until she sat down and wondered if her stomach had room for half of it.

"You're hungry." It wasn't a question, but Kate paired it with a gentle smile, which Max did her best to return.

"Yeah. I didn't eat much yesterday." She'd woken up around midnight just long enough to finish off the stale potato chips, regret it, and go back to sleep.

"You weren't in class either."

"I felt like shit." Max still felt like shit, in fact, and her little tantrum outside of photography hadn't helped.

"Were you sick?"

Max shook her head, and braced for an onslaught of judgment that wasn't forthcoming.

"Mrs. Hoida was worried about you. She asked me to check in on you, but you didn't answer when I knocked."

"Sorry. I slept a lot."

" _I_ was worried about you."

"I'm sorry." Max focused on the slice of grilled cheese she was dunking in the tomato soup, but was rapidly losing her appetite.

"Do you want to tell me what happened between you and Victoria?"

_No, but I probably should,_ Max thought as she glanced around to make sure nearby tables were unoccupied. "It's pretty much what you said. I kept trying to see the good in her, 'cause I felt sorry for her, or I was desparate, or maybe just 'cause she was hot. And I thought I could, even after... what she did to you."

"Until she told you the rest?" Kate sipped a warm mug of tea in between bites of pizza and steamed green beans.

"Yeah, we were... well... honestly it won't make much sense unless I go back a bit."

"Take whatever time you need."

Max caught herself cradling her aching hands, then noticed how badly bruised they were and moved them to her lap so Kate couldn't see. "Well, first... Alyssa was at the lighthouse--sometime in December I think?--and she took a photo of the butterfly for that contest."

" _The_ butterfly?"

"Yeah. The judges thought she photoshopped it, so she asked me for the Polaroid I had on my wall to prove it was real."

"I thought you threw that one in the trash."

"I _did_ , but then I chickened out and saved it at the last second. Anyways I decided to have Victoria drive me to the lighthouse to see if... honestly I don't even know why the hell I went. But then I was out there shouting at the butterfly like 'why did you make me choose?' and just like, furious at myself, and Victoria just tells me to blame her."

"Oh."

"And she's not wrong. I mean, if she'd reported Nathan for drugging you, maybe they could've stopped him before he shot Chloe."

"You don't know that for sure. You've always talked about how it's hard to predict how your actions affect the future."

"That doesn't make it better. I mean, maybe she didn't think he'd murder somebody, but she let a guy drug a girl at a party and walk off with her. It doesn't take a fortune-teller to know how bad that is. And I realized that Victoria's the kind of person who would _do_ that, and I'm _dating_ her."

Max put down her slice of grilled cheese without taking a bite, and looked up at Kate. "Go ahead. Say 'I told you so'."

"I'd never."

"Why not? It's not like I didn't earn it."

"Did she mistreat you?"

"No, but... what the hell are you doing defending her? She did this shit to _you_."

Kate folded her pizza in half and took a big bite. When she finally finished chewing she spoke. "I guess there was a part of me that was hoping that you and her would be okay; that even if _I_ couldn't forgive her maybe you could."

"Could've fooled me. And why the hell would you want _me_ to forgive her, if you don't want to?"

"It's not that I don't _want_ to forgive her. I just can't. I said I did, and I wanted that to be true, but every time I see her I get angry, I feel sick. I don't _want_ to be like that, but I can't stop it. I know it's not healthy for me to feel that way."

"Is that something Mrs. Gibson said?"

"No. It's from Pastor Damien."

"Well it's pretty stupid. You're allowed to be human, Kate. Real people can get angry, or scared, even when they don't want to be, and you have better reasons than most of them."

"Is that how you feel? That you can't help but be mad at her?"

"Kinda. I don't know. I haven't really tried anything else."

"What if you did? What if you really wanted to forgive her? Or at least give her a shot."

"Maybe. It's not like I'm enjoying this, but I don't think it's a matter of choice."

"Maybe not, but you should try anyways. If you really think she's changed... I mean, she told you everything because she wanted you to stop blaming yourself, right? Even if it meant blaming her."

"Why are you suddenly on the other side of this?"

"I'm not, Max. I still don't think you should've started dating her. I feel like it'll end badly, for both of you. But you can still talk to her."

"How do I even get to that point? I get so mad; I can't even look at her without just like, boiling over. I mean, she let him drug you and carry you off from that party. How sick can you get?"

"She didn't know what he was going to do."

"What the hell kind of excuse is that? Like, 'oh, I didn't know those guys with guns and ski masks were gonna rob the bank, so I didn't call 911?' She knew enough."

"She didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?!"

Kate finally set the pizza crust she'd been holding down onto her plate, and glanced around them nervously. She spoke in a hush: "Max, Nathan was _gay_. _Is_ gay," she corrected herself. "Victoria let it slip by accident when she apologized to me. Their whole relationship was a sham, she told me all about it and how she thought she knew him."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"No, it doesn't. But she didn't think he'd... she thought I'd be okay."

"I don't know if that makes me feel any better or not," Max said as she picked up her sandwich and dunked it again. "It's still a horrible thing to do to a person. And she still kissed you."

"A lot of people did, Max. Only one of them ever apologized."

"I thought you wished she didn't."

"But it was still the right thing to do. I could've gotten her in all sorts of trouble with Blackwell, or the lawsuit, or even the police, but she did it anyways. She practically _wanted_ me to hurt her."

"Sounds about right. She said she deserved the visions too. I told you about that, right?"

"She saw herself in the bunker?"

"Not just once. More like half a dozen times. And sometimes he murders her at the end."

"That's horrible. I can't even imagine how... Max, she doesn't deserve that. Please help her."

"I'll try."

Max tried to keep a lighter conversation going with Kate while she started again on her lunch, about drawing class or the weather, but soon there was nothing to do except eat and watch Kate working on homework. She spent the rest of the period filling her stomach with grilled cheese, then composing a text message to Victoria--one that remained unsent as she said her goodbyes to Kate and headed off to Chemistry.

She stopped by the condiments counter on the way out to sneak a little more cereal into her bag. _That wasn't so bad,_ she thought, but she still wasn't planning on coming back for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Nathan reveal in this chapter was originally planned for a lot later, or maybe never, but after how disturbing Victoria's last confession ended up being, I had to move it up. You're welcome.
> 
> Whether it makes what Victoria did any better is debatable, but Max is desperate for any excuse to let go of her anger, so it'll have to do.


	74. Kumbaya

The first text message came a few minutes past midnight, just as Max was settling into her bed, ready to pull the comforter over herself and drift off to a desperately-needed sleep.

_Can't it wait til tomorrow?_ A second chime suggested that maybe it couldn't, but Max ignored that too, and rolled over to face the wall.

It wasn't until her phone chimed a third time that worry got the better of her. She grunted and reached to the nightstand to see what was so important that someone would send _three_ texts at this time of night. Then she saw them.

**Unknown:** Victoria's at the totem pole

**Unknown:** Its bad

**Unknown:** I need your help

She rested the phone on her pillow and tapped out a reply.

**Max:** What? Who is this?

**Unknown:** Its Taylor

**Unknown:** She's seriously out of it, going on about visions and alternate realities and shit

**Unknown:** She won't listen to me

**Unknown:** I'm kinda freaking out now

**Max:** Don't you have that number to call?

**Unknown:** I can't find it anymore

**Unknown:** I think she deleted it from my phone when I wasn't looking

**Max:** Do you think we should call 911?

**Unknown:** Maybe, but could you talk to her first?

**Max:** Okay

Sending that last text took a lot less time than it did to muster up the willpower to crawl out of bed, and put her jacket on. She could hear the slow patter of a winter rain tap tapping on the windowsill, and dug her only pair of boots out of the back of the closet. It was the first she'd used them in months; lately she'd either ran through the rain, or skipped class entirely.

It took even more will to drag herself down the chilly stairwell, and the jacket and boots felt insufficient as the frigid outside air hit her. _I bet it's snowing in Washington, but we're stuck with this shit._

What Victoria was doing out here was beyond Max's guess; no sane person would be out in this weather at this time of night. Indeed, the quad was filled only with the round globes of streetlamps and the mist around them, and their reflections on the slick sidewalks. Max was expecting to find Victoria leaning against the pole, scowling with arms crossed, perhaps shielding a cigarette from the rain.

Instead, Victoria sat on the ground against the Tobanga, wearing nothing but the thin nightgown that Max recognized from the hallway. As Max's eyes adjusted to the dim light on the far edge of the streetlamp's glow she gasped slightly. Victoria's hair was limp and wet across her forehead, and the cold rain had soaked the gown until it clung to Victoria's shoulders and back, practically transparent. If Victoria hadn't been hunched over and facing towards the woods, Max would have been able to see almost as much as in the polaroid by her trash can.

As Max got closer she felt a moment of guilt at how annoyed she'd been at being dragged outside.

"Mmmmax!"

Victoria's tone stumbled and her inflection lurched. This time Max recognized what it meant immediately. "Are you drunk?"

Victoria shook her head, and the rest of her body shivered in turn. "Just enough to make it hurt not... so much. M-Mostly cold."

Drinking to make the pain stop seemed to be Victoria's thing. Not exactly healthy, but Max was more worried about the blue tinge creeping into Victoria's face and fingers.

"Did you see Jefferson again?"

"No. Didn't _see_ anything. Just myself."

Max tried to make sense of Victoria's words and failed. "What are you doing out here?"

"I figured you never wanted to... see me again. Wouldn't blamed you."

"I just needed some time."

"Yeah, right. You just needed to get the hellll away from me once you saw what a m-monster I'm."

"You're not a monster."

"I made Kate Marsh kill herself!"

"You made a mistake. It's bad but it doesn't have to ruin your life."

"Just sssomebody else's."

"What you did hurt Kate, but she's stronger than you think. Stronger than I am. She'll get through it."

Victoria wrapped her arms tightly around herself, then seemed to think better of it and let them fall to her sides again as she shivered violently.

"C-Chloe Price won't. An' it's 'cause of me."

"It's because of me too. You didn't know what would happen. I did. And I let her die anyways."

"But you're trying to do the right thing. Save the town or shit, right? I was just do whatever the hell I wanted to, I always do, 'cause i's fun."

"That's not true. I've seen you do nice things for other people. Like Taylor. Or me."

"D'you found the photo?"

"I did."

"I was half-hoping you'd send it to the whole schooool. Stupid, but it'd make stuff even... not even. Not even close, but it'd be a start."

If Max had thought of that yesterday she might have done it, but now she rejected the thought outright. "That wouldn't solve anything. It'd just mean more pain."

"It'd serve me right though."

"That's not what I want from you."

"What _do_ you want? Want me to say I'm sorry again?"

"I already know you're sorry."

"Then what?! You want me and Kate to be all ducky and sing Kumbaya around the fire with you? After all I did I don't deserve that. _She_ doesn't deserve that."

"I just want things to be okay."

"Things stopped being ok-kay three months ago! I made damn sure of that didn't I."

"Can you change what you did?"

"You know I fffucking can't, Max! No matter what I do, I'll always be the b-bitch that got Chloe Price killed. Forever!"

"You didn't pull the trigger."

"Might as well've. I s-saw what he's doing and I let him get away with it. Can't undo that."

"But you can change what you do now."

"Yeah? And what the f-fuck should I do?" The anger seemed to be warming Victoria up at least. The tinge of blue wasn't gone from her hands, but the shivering had mostly stopped.

"Come inside! It's like thirty degrees out."

"It's not so bad."

"You're freezing!"

Victoria turned her head to look through the trees in the distance. "They say you stop feeling cold after a while."

When Max finally grasped what Victoria meant by that, she felt a chill of her own, deeper than any that could have been caused by the weather.

"Jesus, you're trying to-"

"Took you long e-fucking-nough."

"I won't let you."

"What, you'll drag me back inside so I can do it some other way tomorrow?"

"I'll call 911 if I have to."

"If you do and I'll go find a bridge to throw myself off. You can't stop me."

"I..." _They'd find her, right? Wouldn't they?_ Max knew enough about the surrounding woods to not like the odds. "Please don't."

"Why not? My life's shit and always will. I used to think 'why me' but I know why. It's 'cause I deserve it. It's cause I'm worthless and just... _fucking_ toxic. I wanna stop poisoning everything I touch. You could be happy if it wasn't for me!"

"No! I care about you; I'd be devastated if I lost you."

"Well you shouldn't be. Think I do? I don't care 'bout you, or Taylor, or- or- or anybody else. Just me... myself."

"That's not true! You wouldn't be trying to kill yourself out of guilt if it was."

"Everything I do says otherwise. Like every time I treated you and Kate shit, and let Nathan get away with shit, and all the other shit I fucking did. Then I let him drug Kate, and all I did was join in. I coulda saved Chloe, I coulda stopped everything if I just told somebody. _Anybody_."

"Or gotten yourself killed."

"W-what?"

It was a connection Max wouldn't have made, if not for how loudly Victoria said the word 'anybody'.

"You had a vision of both of us in the dark room, right? You didn't see how _you_ got there, but I did. It was 'cause I warned you about Nathan being dangerous and you went right to the teacher you trusted the most."

"Jeff- Jeffer..."

"Exactly."

"Then I shoulda gone to... Wells or something."

"Wells was protecting Nathan almost as much as Jefferson was. I saw... a timeline where I reported Nathan's gun and he called me a liar, and threatened me! And there were _police_ on the Prescott payroll too!"

Water seeped from the damp ground into Max's flannel PJ bottoms as she knelt in front of Victoria, trying to give comfort but also hoping that she could keep her from running off, if it came to that.

"Everything was so fucked up and we were all just stuck in the middle of it. What you did was bad but doing the right thing wouldn't have helped. It would've gotten you killed."

"What I did was unforgivable. Don't matter what other people were doing."

" _I_ forgive you for it."

Victoria stared off into the distant trees. "Bullshit. You're just saying so I don't kill myself."

"I'm not! I was angry you for a while, but it just made me feel like shit. And I knew how much you hated yourself for it. I figured you didn't need any more."

"I'd be better off dead. Everybody thinks so. Even you, just you're too polite to say it."

"I don't!"

" _I_ do." Victoria stared at the ground now, Max could see blue creeping into her lips and face. "I don't deserve to live after what I did."

"Don't hate yourself. Hate the person you used to be."

"That a quote from somewhere?"

"Maybe? I guess it kinda sounds like it but I don't remember. Anyways that doesn't mean it's not right. You can change. You _have_ changed."

"But it's too late. Everybody hates me an' I fucked everything up."

"It's never too late to change. I don't hate you, and in a few months you'll go on to college and start over. And you'll be away from your parents and everything. You want to be alive for that don't you?"

Victoria looked up from the ground finally. "Maybe?" Max could see her eyes, outlined in red, and damp--probably not just from the rain.

"I do! I want you to be alive when we graduate, and go on to be famous, and everything."

Max wrapped her hand around one of Victoria's; the skin was ice beneath her fingers.

"Is that even gonna hap- happen?"

"It will. I know it will. Just a few more months. I can't wait to get out of here, but I can tough it out, as long as you're here with me."

To emphasize that thought, Max finally bent down the rest of the way and wrapped her arms around Victoria. "Please come inside."

At last, Victoria allowed herself to be helped up, wrapped in Max's jacket, and guided gently to the dormitory door and up the stairs. She stumbled in the stairwell, and gasped sharply as Max put a hand around her right hip to steady her.

"Key?" Max asked as they approached Victoria's door. Victoria shook her head, and the door opened without one. Finally inside, Max watched as Victoria tossed off the borrowed jacket, then turned her head as Victoria's nightgown dropped to the floor.

"I did more stuff, you know," Victoria said.

Max stared at Victoria's closet. "What do you mean?"

"L-Like, I was the one writing all that awful stuff on your slate all the- all the time."

"Oh. Yeah, I figured that was you."

"And I told Courtney to steal your camera and put it on Mrs. Grant's skeleton."

Max smiled. "That one was kinda funny."

"It wasn't funny when I spammed your Instagram with two hundred dick pics. Or had Taylor photoshop your face onto the girl with the peanut butter."

"I... I didn't see that one, but it doesn't matter. You've learned; you're not gonna be like that again."

Victoria's hand brushed across Max's arm, and Max figured that meant it was safe to turn around. The drenched nightgown was in a pile on the floor next to Max's jacket; it was replaced by a black sleep shirt that was thankfully more opaque, but the parts of Victoria that Max could still see hadn't regained their natural color, and the girl shuddered as she ran the towel over her still-damp hair.

"I started all those rumours," Victoria said, still not meeting Max's eye. "And I was the one who turned on all the sinks while you were showering, and-"

Max interrupted Victoria's confession with a loud snort.

"What?!"

Max tried not to smile too hard. "Sorry, I... maybe I should have figured it out sooner."

"What?"

"That you were into me. That's the cliche, right? The bully always does all the mean stuff 'cause they have a secret crush?"

"It's not funny! I was awful to you."

"No, you're right. It _was_ awful. But it's kinda funny too, in, like, the cosmic sense. You know?"

"I j-just wanna go to sleep."

"Okay. But I want to warm you up a bit first. Do you want some tea or something? Oatmeal?"

"Just hot water?"

"Sure. I'll be back really soon; are you okay for now?"

"I promise I'm not gonna kill myself in the next five minutes." Victoria fished through the jewelry dish next to her bed and pulled out a brass door key, which she handed to Max. "Here."

Max took the key with a touch of relief, and her gaze lingered on Victoria as the gap in the door diminished to nothing. Back in her own room, she allowed herself a few seconds of weakness before getting to work. She'd been holding back plenty of shivering of her own, whether from the cold or from the stress of trying to save Victoria she couldn't say. After a minute of deep breaths and a dry pair of PJ pants the tension had mostly bled off, and she was able to start looking for a clean mug.

_Why would somebody throw out a perfectly good microwave?_ Max thought to herself as she filled the mug and nuked it for one minute and fifty-nine seconds. _Just 'cause the zero button's broke?_ It was a lucky find just days after the funeral, when she'd been feeling less and less like leaving her room. Now she was even more thankful for it than ever. 

She reached for her phone to occupy herself as she waited, but realized it was still in her jacket, which was in a pile on Victoria's floor. Her laptop would work fine, and as she picked it up she realized she had something more important than cat photos to research.

 

When Max came back, with hot water in hand, she found Victoria already in bed, leaning against the wall with the blankets covering her knees.

"Here. Drink this."

Victoria wrapped her hands tightly and eagerly around the warm mug, but they still shook as she drew it to her lips, spilling a touch on herself and her sheets as she drank.

"Do you have a heating pad or something?" Max asked.

"Never bothered with one. Always went right to the Midol, or stronger shit."

"Okay, well I'm kind of worried that you're still shaking so much. Do you at least have a thermometer?"

As soon as Max asked she realized it was a dumb question, and the look Victoria gave her said as much. "Right."

"I'll be fine, just pile on the blankets."

"If you get cold enough, your body can't warm itself up, especially if you've had alcohol. You need some kind of heater, or even just somebody lying down next to you, to help."

Victoria flashed Max a look, as if she were going to make some kind of joke about jumping into bed together, but then her face turned serious again, and she gave Max a curt nod.

"It's not sexual," Max reassured her, "I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Were you a girl scout or some shit?"

"No, I just checked WebMD. It also said you probably have cancer." Max flashed Victoria a sideways smile, and was quietly overjoyed when it was returned. But the moment didn't last long; Victoria turned to face the wall, and lifted the heavy blanket behind her to give Max space to join her.

Max shed her ratty hoodie and gave thanks that Victoria hadn't lifted up the final layer of sheets. It wouldn't feel right, even after all the fantasies of being this close to Victoria. _I'm not... taking advantage, am I?_ But a hand reached out for Max's, and guided it gently across Victoria's waist.

Even through a layer of satin Victoria was frigid, and as Max moved her body up against Victoria's she could still feel shivering. But gradually Victoria's skin warmed to the touch, her tremors were replaced with a shallow but steady breathing, and Max followed her into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I get a single line of dialog in my mind and an entire chapter crystallizes around it. For this chapter, Victoria's 'stop feeling cold after a while' was that line.


	75. Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who were hoping that Max and Victoria would end up in bed together: Careful what you wish for.

Max woke up first, no longer touching Victoria but right next to her.

The bed was hardly big enough for two people, let alone two people no longer spooning; Victoria had wedged herself against the wall, and Max was perilously close to the falling off the opposite side, onto the floor of Victoria's dorm room.

For a second Max thought it must be late in the day, with blue skies visible through the windows but the warm morning sunbeams no longer falling on the two of them. She realized quickly enough, though, that she was on the other side of the dorm--the side that got afternoon sun. That meant that she didn't have to get up and check her phone to see what classes she'd missed. She was thankful for that, because now was the perfect moment to do nothing but watch Victoria's chest rise and fall slowly.

The moment couldn't last though, and too soon Victoria stirred and finally opened her eyes to see Max lying less than a foot away.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Clearly, Victoria wasn't a morning person.

"Don't you remember? You were freezing to death, and I-"

"Yeah, I remember. I wasn't _that_ drunk. I mean why are you _still_ here? Anyone with half a brain would have gotten the fuck away from me hours ago."

Max slipped out from under the covers without taking her eyes off of Victoria, and stood in the middle of the room in her sleep shirt. "D-Do you want me to leave?"

"I don't care. You got what you wanted, right? Got to play the hero." Max wasn't sure what triggered the regression in mood, but whatever the cause Victoria didn't seem to be enjoying it like she used to.

"I got _you_."

"You deserve better."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

Victoria rubbed her face with her hands. "Why not? Only thing I'm good at is finding creative ways to kill myself. Or tricking girls into bed apparently."

"You didn't trick me. Don't you remember? It was my idea, to keep you warm, and I stayed 'cause I care about you, and 'cause it felt good knowing you were okay."

"' _Okay_ '? The fuck are you smoking? I just tried to kill myself for the _second_ time in a month. One little 'I forgive you' isn't gonna fucking fix that."

"Why are you being so mean?" Max tried hard not to let the beginnings of tears show through in her voice.

"'cause it's who I am!"

"It's not! I kn-know it's not. You've shown me a side of you that's sweet, and caring, and thoughtful, and really, truly afraid of hurting me. I know you can be like that. Why not now?"

Victoria considered her words for what felt like an eternity, then looked away from Max, towards the windows.

"So it doesn't hurt so much next time... when you can't save me."

"That's not... You know how I am. It'd just hurt more."

"I guess. I just thought it'd be easier if you hated me."

"Is that why you didn't tell me Nathan was gay?"

Victoria glanced back at Max, just a touch surprised, then looked out the windows again.

"Not at first. I mean, he was so far in the closet he was giving Aslan blowjobs. He swore me to _total_ secrecy; he'd basically be ruined if anyone else knew. It was bad enough when his dad found out. I didn't even mean to tell Kate. But I guess it doesn't really matter anymore. The whole time on the trail I knew I could've told you, and maybe it would've fixed things, but it didn't feel right, outing him just to save my own sorry ass when I didn't deserve to be saved. Besides, you'd be better off without me."

"I still think you deserve to be saved. That's why I did it. I'd rather be there for you than hate you and blame myself when you died. I've seen enough death." A smile crept onto Max's face. "And I know the truth about you, so it's too late anyways."

"Truth?"

"You're a good person. You're just afraid to let it show."

"You're better." Victoria looked almost happy to have lost this argument.

"Not really." The story behind that could wait until later, though.

"Don't sell yourself short. You're kind and caring and just... you have this amazing talent."

"And you're smart and hard-working and... and confident in a way that I really wish I could be."

They paused a moment, Max glanced at Victoria's bare feet, which dangled down the side of the bed and poked out from under the covers, and even _those_ looked sexy right now.

"And we're both fucked up six ways to Sunday," Victoria finished with a sideways smile.

"Yeah." Max looked back at her own feet. "What do we do now?"

Victoria glanced towards the clock on her stereo. "I got class to go to. I'm sure you do too."

"Yeah, I guess so." Max hadn't been thinking quite so short-term, but Victoria had a point. "It feels weird, just going on like nothing happened."

"I've been doing it for years. Just keep your shoulders up and smile."

Max straightened her back, and took a deep breath, and found that the smile she was putting on wasn't completely a lie.

"Yeah, like that. See you in class?"

"Uh... Yeah." On a Wednesday, the only class they would have together is photography, right after lunch. Max was dreading it again, but at least not for the same reason as before. Right as she reached for the doorknob she had a thought, and turned to ask, "How much did I miss in class on Mon-"

Victoria's nightie was halfway down her body, and Max spun back around to stare intently at the door. "Oh, sorry!"

"Eh. Not like you haven't seen worse."

"I guess." At least this time Victoria was facing away from Max, toward the windows. Max tried not to wonder if Victoria's selfie was salvageable.

"I wasn't in class on Monday either," Victoria said. "Too busy hating myself and making plans for last night."

"Oh."

"You know... I... I feel like I'm supposed to thank you for saving my ass, but it doesn't seem right. There's still a part of me that wishes you let me freeze to death. It's not as loud as it was, but it's not gonna go away."

"Have you ever thought about getting... you know... therapy?"

"I'm _in_ fucking therapy. Have been since last month. And a couple of times before that too."

"I mean not just for the drinking. Did you tell her about anything else?"

"It's a 'him' actually, but... I don't know what I'd say. I don't know what I _could_ say. 'Hey Dr. Loewe, I'm having visions of alternate realities'? Last month I was one wrong word away from being locked up in the nuthouse forever."

"Just talk about the visions like they were nightmares. That's what I'd do. Yours aren't as messed up as mine, I'm sure he'd just say it means your subconscious is feeling guilty or something."

"I'd probably still get hauled off again."

"Maybe that would be for the best."

"What the hell do you mean by that!?" Victoria snapped.

"I stopped you from killing yourself. I'm not a real therapist, but I know how bad that was, and I'm scared for you. Maybe they could help you better. Besides, maybe it wouldn't be so bad."

"Like hell. Every therapist I ever saw did fuck-all, including in that place."

"You were just there 'cause of the alcohol stuff though, right? Maybe you could tell him a bit more? Or find a different therapist?"

"Like who? My shrink is the only licensed one in this whole shit town. Besides, it doesn't matter who I talk to. None of them can make me stop seeing Jefferson's room. That's your friend's department."

"Friend?"

"The fucking butterfly! You were so sure it was behind all this shit but I have no idea what it means or why it won't leave me alone. And you're still not telling me the whole fucking story. I know you're not, and I'm stuck here wondering what the hell is going on, and watching myself get murdered every other week."

"You're right. I'm sorry, I just..."

"...didn't trust me 'cause I'm a bitch?" Victoria finished for her, then smiled. "It's okay."

"That's not it. It's just... it's so crazy, you'd think I was nuts."

"More nuts than I am? That's not a contest you'd win, Caulfield."

"I think I could give you a run for your money. And I guess I owe you the truth, anyways."

"Thanks." Victoria grabbed her purse and walked towards the door. "Gonna have to take a rain check on that though. Class starts in seven minutes."


	76. Official

"And you're sure you can't reverse time anymore?" Victoria leaned back in her desk chair, and ran her fingers along the edges of her 'Order of the Blue Butterfly' membership card. She'd pulled it out of her purse and spent most of the conversation staring at it, but now she was looking at Max expectantly.

Max reclined further into the pile of pillows on Victoria's bed and sighed melodramatically. "Yes, I'm sure."

It was the third time Victoria had asked that, and Max was getting tired of finding new ways to answer. "I tried. Not on purpose! I didn't want to cause anything else, but like... when my phone broke, I did it without even thinking, and it didn't work."

Victoria crossed her ankles for the dozenth time and leaned forward towards Max. "Isn't your phone back to normal?"

"Yeah, 'cause my mom took it to a shop and paid a guy to fix it. That was my Christmas present this year."

"Oh, okay. I just... this is so fucking freaky." It was the third time Victoria had said _that_ as well, practically word for word. "You seriously don't remember my whole bullshit 'Blackwell will be stronger after this tragedy' speech?"

"I don't remember _anything_ from that week. I'm just kind of... on autopilot or something, there's another me that takes over for a while. She just remembers taking a photo and blacking out for a minute, then when I'm back all I have to go on is what she left behind: text messages, journal entries, stuff like that."

"You keep a journal?"

How Victoria hadn't noticed that months ago, Max wasn't sure. It would've been the perfect thing to bully her about, and it wasn't like she'd been shy about adding to it in public.

"I used to. The last entry is dated October 11th, then I just... stopped. I tried a few days later, and I got like three words down before I broke down sobbing again." To be fair, she'd also broken down sobbing while sitting in class, while using the toilet, while checking her text messages, and while changing into pajamas.

"Besides, even I wanted to I'd have to be a bit more careful. Like, if I wrote down everything and somebody found it it'd be Exhibit A for sending me to the nuthouse."

"That reminds me," Victoria said. "I'd appreciate you not putting any of this in a text message or anything. This is, like, the _last_ think I'd want to have to explain to Dr. Loewe."

"Yeah. I've been avoiding Mrs. Gibson like the plague. Honestly I'm so messed up I don't even know what I'd tell her. Like, with some people I can just say Jefferson drugged me, but Blackwell hired her to talk to all the victims, so she probably knows I wasn't in the dark room. Even if she doesn't, she's talking to a bunch of girls who _were_. No way I could fake it."

"After all the timelines you've been through, I bet that room is the _least_ of your worries."

"You really believe me." It wasn't a question, exactly, but Max looked at Victoria expecting an answer.

"It might be insane, but it makes more sense than anything I ever came up with."

"You're sure you're not, like, waiting for your chance to call the men in lab coats?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Seriously, even if I _did_ think you were nuts I wouldn't wish that shit on you. It's just gonna take a while to get my head around everything."

"Tell me about it." Max lay down the rest of the way and saw patterns in the cracks in the ceiling. "I spent my entire life thinking the universe works a certain way and it just said 'Nope, fuck you' for like a week, then went right back to pretending everything was normal."

"Fuck. It's a wonder you're not _more_ messed up."

"I've had people to talk to though. Like Kate. I told her everything months ago, and she's helped me through when things get bad. You haven't had anyone 'til now."

"I guess."

"And no matter how bad my stuff got--even when he was right about to kill me--deep down I always knew I had the power to escape. You didn't. That's gotta be fucking with your head, seriously."

Victoria sighed and rested her feet on the edge of the mattress. "I'll _think_ about telling my therapist more stuff. No promises."

"Maybe _I_ could go talk to your therapist, make you sound normal by comparison."

"That'd work too wouldn't it," Victoria chuckled.

"Or we just go together," Max said with a wry smile. "He'd have to believe us then, right?"

"Totally. Seriously, though, what the hell _are_ we gonna do?"

"I don't know. The only lead I have is the butterfly, and that only shows up when it feels like it. But I don't wanna just go on like nothing happened and wait to see if it shows up again."

Victoria tapped the business card on her desk again, and the blue wings printed on it flashed in the afternoon sun. "What else _can_ we do? Obsess about it 'til it drives us insane?"

"I pretty much already tried that." Max shrugged.

Victoria snorted. "Me too I guess. But I still gotta pass class and get into college and everything."

"Ugh, don't remind me. At least I got into a few places already."

"Really? Where?"

"RIT and SFCA," Max said. "And maybe UCLA if I don't fuck up my grades."

"SFCA's not bad if you wanna live in _Oakland_." Victoria clearly didn't like the idea. "RIT's a good one; I applied there, and Yale and a few others. I'm hoping for SAIC though."

"That's my reach school. Not sure how I could afford it even if I get in, though. I couldn't even afford to fly out and visit the campus."

"I could give you the whole tour. Not exactly the season for it but it's not like you're actually _there_ in the summer when it's all nice."

"That might be fun. As long as you don't have any more awful confessions saved up for an awkward time."

"Nope, just good ones."

Max turned her head to smile at Victoria. "For real though, we should do _something_ together that doesn't end in disaster."

"Off campus, you mean?"

Max's face fell. "Oh. Yeah, I guess so."

"I'm sorry. We can stay in and do movies like last time. It was just a thought..."

"No, off-campus is fine. It just kind of bugs me."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was talking with Courtney... she said you were keeping us in the closet 'cause you didn't wanna be seen in public with me. It bothered me a lot, even if I know it's not true. I mean, I know it can be hard coming out, and I guess I'm okay with that."

"No, she was right. I wasn't trying to stay in the closet. At this point I could give a fuck about the goddamned closet. It was 'cause I was ashamed to be seen dating you. I was afraid it'd destroy my social life. Which was pretty much a charade, by that point; I don't know why keeping it up mattered so much to me. Besides, everyone I actually care about would get it. And it was a really shitty thing to do to you."

"Well we can fix _that_ at least. Right?"

"Yeah, if _I_ could rewind time."

Max managed to hide her wince from Victoria. "No, I mean now."

"What do you mean?"

"We could go public."

"I didn't realize _we_ were still a thing."

"Oh." Max's face fell.

"Sorry, I mean it's not like I wanna break up, but after the lighthouse I kinda assumed it was over."

"I guess I did too, at first. But it doesn't have to be. I told you I needed time, and I've had some now."

"And you still wanna be with me?"

"I'm willing to try. But only if it's out in the open. No more sneaking around."

"Okay." Victoria sighed, then realized how reluctant she sounded and changed course. "I mean... yes, I want to be out and dating you, and I want everyone to know it."

"That's more like it." Max dug through the pile her jacket made on the ground, and pulled her phone out. "Wanna make it Facebook-official then?"

"Think bigger. Like, I wanna throw a whole coming out party."

"Maybe not _that_ big? It's not really my... thing... you know."

"How about the party on Sunday. You'll be my official plus one."

"Sunday?" This was the first Max had heard of any party, let alone one on a school night.

"Yeah, 'cause of MLK day. You got the notice, right?"

"Oh, uh... yeah I did, I just forgot about it." _And about the three-day weekend._

"Well I'm taking you, as my girlfriend, and everyone else can just suck ass if they don't like it. If that's okay with you I mean."

"I guess I can handle that." Max flashed Victoria a smile. "I didn't bring the shoes and stuff you got me though."

Victoria scoffed. "This is a _real_ party, not some fancy-ass dog and pony show. Besides, you definitely need shorter heels if you wanna dance without killing yourself. I need to go to Portland that morning anyways for my own outfit. I'll take you with me, get you something that doesn't scream 'got lost on the way to the Emmys'."

"Actually... I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with you spending so much money on me again. It felt, like... weird. I'd rather find stuff that's cheaper, and pay my own way."

"Hey, I'm not embarrassed to be seen with you, but I _will_ be if you show up in a $40 dress and Payless shoes. Parties are my territory, and this one has to go just right." Victoria could tell Max wasn't fully placated. "You can chip in a little, if you want," she added grudgingly.

"Okay. I just don't wanna feel like I can't pay my own way, or like I'm taking advantage."

"Please. My parents didn't even _notice_ the $500 shoes, let alone complain about them. I get a grand a month in allowance and I'm stuck in Arcadia Bay; I've had literally nothing to spend it on all school year. We could blow four grand on dresses and they wouldn't bat an eye."

"Holy shit, I could buy a car for that much!"

"Why would you _want_ to? It'd be a real shitty car."

"Any car is better than the 'no car' I have now. But that's not the point. It kinda bothers me how you just throw money around like it's nothing."

"It pretty much _is_."

"Not to me. I had to pull weeds all summer just to get my own laptop for Blackwell, and if I hadn't gotten a really good scholarship I wouldn't even be here."

"Then why don't you want me to buy you a dress?"

"I..." It took a moment for Max to figure out a coherent answer to that. "It just doesn't feel right if I didn't earn it; like you're just trying to make yourself feel less guilty and I'm taking advantage of it."

"You're so... _ethical_ sometimes I swear, I don't..." Victoria said the word as if it were a grave insult. "Look, I didn't earn the money either. They give me it 'cause they want me to be happy, or successful, or whateverthefuck, and just 'cause they can."

"But they're giving it to _you_."

"Think of it this way. The dress and stuff isn't for you. I mean you can keep it--not like any of it'll fit me--and I hope you like it. But I wanna show off my girlfriend, and in my world that means $800 dresses and heels you could kill somebody with. If I really wanted to buy my way into your heart I'd get you a squirrel or something."

Max giggled. "That'd totally work."

"It totally would."

"Or a rabbit?" Max asked playfully, as if she were dropping an unsubtle suggestion.

"Can't. Kate has one of those already; you'd just look like a poser."

"I don't care. Did you ever get to hold Alice? She's like the cutest thing ever, I swear!"

"I don't exactly do 'cute'. Maybe I'll just get you grilled cheese again."

"Hey, _I _paid for that last time." It was the one thing Max had been able to afford, and she didn't want Victoria taking credit, even if it had been her idea.__

__"How about after I pay for dresses I'll let you pick up the grilled cheese and we'll call it square. Deal?"_ _

__"As long as you promise not to spend four grand."_ _

__"Fiiiiine." Victoria drew out the word as if it would be some great hardship, but then flashed Max a quick smile._ _

__"Deal." Max raised her hand to offer Victoria a fist bump; Victoria rolled her eyes and waited quite a while before finally giving in and returning the gesture halfheartedly._ _

__"Just make sure you shower beforehand."_ _

__"Oh. Yeah." Max made a note to shower tonight as well._ _

__Victoria finally collapsed on the bed next to Max. "I can't wait for this fucking week to be over. I just hope I survive it."_ _

__"Me too," Max answered, not sure if she was talking about Victoria surviving it, or herself. Either answer worked, and she decided to leave it at that._ _

__Max checked her phone for the time. The cafeteria would be closing soon, and they wouldn't be able to go together, not quite yet. Then they'd be spending the night in their own rooms, but that was okay. They'd be together soon enough._ _

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, doesn't Max have something already scheduled for Sunday afternoon? Oh well, I'm sure things'll work themselves out...


	77. Opposite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enough Victoria for now! Time for more of everybody's favorite part of this fic: Math lessons!

Victoria was returning Max's smiles in Photography class now.

It was subtle, but Max was sure she wasn't imagining it, and she definitely wasn't imagining the texts Victoria sent in between periods.

 **Victoria:** Have you ever worn any Costello?

Max blinked at the text and leaned against the side of a row of lockers to compose a response.

 **Max:** I'm not sure why you think I know who that is

 **Victoria:** I was looking up labels for... your sense of style

 **Victoria:** Not many good results for 'hipster fashion designer' but that one looked decent

 **Max:** Isn't having a designer label as un-hipster as you can get?

 **Max:** Besides, it's not like I'm trying to dress in any particular style

 **Max:** I just wear what's comfortable

Victoria ignored the objection.

 **Victoria:** Apparently there's this place called Radish Underground?

 **Victoria:** We could just get your dress there. Totally not my thing but it looks right up your alley

A quick Google search showed a pretty reasonable selection, and even reasonable price tags.

 **Max:** Yeah that looks fine

 **Max:** And you're sure nobody's gonna drop pigs blood on me?

 **Victoria:** That's disturbingly specific

 **Victoria:** You have a bad experience?

 **Max:** Yeah, I watched Carrie at age 9

 **Victoria:** Who's that?

 **Max:** It's a movie

 **Max:** I still have a copy from Warren. The original, not the remake from last year

 **Max:** Maybe we should watch it together

 **Victoria:** Oh

 **Victoria:** And here I thought I was finally gonna hear the story of why you don't like parties

 **Max:** It's not like I don't like them

 **Max:** Just not my thing

 **Victoria:** Well if anyone brings pigs blood I will kill the fuck out of them

 **Victoria:** Or even if they look at you funny

It was shaping up to be a decent Thursday afternoon, and Max was looking forward to the group meeting again.

A text from Brooke fixed that real quick.

 **Brooke:** Where do you want to meet? In your room again?

She had to scroll back through the conversation history to see what Brooke was even talking about.

 **Max:** That's what I was thinking

It was a lie. Max hadn't been thinking about it at all; she hardly remembered even texting Brooke, and she definitely didn't remember scheduling tutoring for the only afternoon all week that she was busy. But her text history wouldn't lie, and given how poorly yesterday's Algebra class had gone, and the quiz next class, backing out wasn't an option.

 _Maybe they won't mind if I'm a little late_ , she thought as she crossed the campus, pulling her jacket tightly around herself to keep out the wind.

Halfway across the quad, she pictured her room and quickened her pace. _I should probably clean up a little if she's gonna see it._ But that hope was quashed as she reached for her room key and heard Brooke's voice behind her.

"You ready?"

"Uh, sure," Max said as she fumbled slightly with her keys, then opened her door. She winced at the sight of the room; there were too many piles of dirty laundry on the floor to count, every single surface was covered in clutter or trash, and she was pretty sure the smell of pot still lingered.

Max moved an over-sized mug, still crusted with oatmeal residue, from the coffee table to the shelf nearby, and shoveled a heap of food wrappers off of the couch. "Sorry, didn't get a chance to clean up."

"No kidding. Something die in here?"

Max shrugged uneasily as she hauled a pile of empty water bottles from the table, and set them next to the trashcan. "Not that I know of."

"Whatever, you said you were having trouble with math?"

"Uh... yeah." It took a minute for Max to find her Algebra book in her stack of neglected schoolwork, but luckily the failed assignment served as a convenient bookmark.

"Ouch. Okay, lemme see what you got."

Brooke took her time looking over the trouble Max was having, while Max tried to decide which she was more mortified by, the mess in her room, or the mess on the paper. Every 'hmm' and 'oh' made the feeling worse, and hearing Brooke stifle a laugh made Max regret asking for help at all.

Max resisted, for now, the temptation to check her phone. "How does it look?"

Brooke scrunched up her face in thought. "I'm not even sure what you're trying to do here."

"For which one?"

"All of them. Like, I'm pretty sure the one you got right was just dumb luck; I don't know why she even gave you credit. Didn't you get the lesson at all?"

"Not really." Max hadn't even tried; that period was spent scouring the news for info about Mark Jefferson's death rather than paying attention to the blackboard.

Brooke sighed resignedly. "Okay, well you get the basics at least, right?"

"How basic do you mean?"

"You at least understand that we're going from angles to triangle side lengths, right?"

"Um, I guess?"

"Like, I have this triangle here." Brooke reached into her trapper keeper for a piece of paper and began sketching. "And I know the angle here, and I want to know how big the other sides are."

Max got _that_ \--it was basically what the worksheet had been asking her to do--it was just doing it that was the trouble, as evidenced by the one point out of ten that she'd gotten back.

"So, first of all you need to memorize these three formulas." Brooke began writing a series of short but cryptic equations that seemed to be aimed to explain what sin, cos, and tan were, but ultimately made things even more bewildering.

"I'm supposed to memorize this?" Max griped.

"It's not too bad. The mnemonic that my old teacher taught me was 'Oscar Had A Hold Of Alice'. O H, A H, O A."

"Sounds kind of creepy."

"So was my teacher. But it helps me remember. Sine, Cosine, and Tangent. Oscar Had--Opposite over Hypotenuse. A Hold--Adjacent over Hypotenuse. Of Alice--Opposite over Adjacent."

"Which is which again?" Max could feel Brooke starting to lose patience already.

Brooke put the letters O, H, and A on the triangle she'd drawn. "So, if the angle we know is here, and the right angle is here, then you just have to remember 'Hypotenuse' is the one that's diagonal, and then 'Opposite' and 'Adjacent' are pretty obvious."

"Uh, right."

"So you just pick the right one and plug stuff in."

"How do I know which one is right?"

"It's easy; just pick the one with the stuff you care about."

Max wanted to take that stupid fucking math book and throw it across the room. " _How do I know what that is?_ "

"Every problem's gonna give you one thing and ask for another one. Lemme show you." Brooke opened the book to a page of practice problems, and her pen flew through one of them so fast Max could barely keep up. "Here we know the hypotenuse and we need the adjacent, so we choose the cosine and just plug in with x for the unknown. So we just plug the angle in, hit cosine, and multiply by the hypotenuse to isolate x. Easy."

To Max it was anything but. "I thought Mrs. Newton said something about looking it up in a table?"

"That's because she's like seventy. Just use your calculator for the trig functions. Just make sure it says 'deg' there."

"Okay. Maybe I should try one and you walk me through it."

"Yeah, good."

Max picked the easiest-looking one she could see, but still got stuck on the first step. "Which is that one? The hypotenuse?"

Brooke corrected Max, then defeated the point of the exercise by finishing the rest of the problem for her. At least she went slightly slower this time.

"Okay, let me try another one."

Halfway through the first step Brooke stepped in again. "That's not the adjacent, it's the opposite."

"But it's on the bottom."

"But our angle isn't. Adjacent means 'next to'. 'Opposite' and 'adjacent' are relative to the known angle."

Another problem, another mistake. This time Max got to the math segment before Brooke took over.

"You don't multiply by the adjacent, you divide."

"Didn't we always multiply before?"

"Come on, Max. This is basic algebra, you should know this. I saw you do it two months ago. Just solve for x."

Max's hand tightened around the mechanical pencil she was holding, and as she pressed it against the page the tip tore a small hole through the paper. _She's right. I should know this. I did fine on that chapter, and now I'm fucking it up again._

She took a deep breath and dug into her memory, and finally saw something that looked like the right path. _Okay, multiply both sides by h, divide both sides by 7.5, and..._ She looked to Brooke for approval and got a curt nod.

"Okay, let me try a few more." Max finally settled into a routine, and managed the next four problems well enough to pass, probably. When it started to get boring rather than frustrating, Max skipped down to the next set and was immediately stumped.

"What about the ones that give me two angles?"

"Those aren't right triangles, so you just have to imagine a right triangle and do the math twice."

Max groaned. "Okay, how do I do _that_?"

Somehow Brooke magically made another triangle from the problem on the page, and her pen spewed ink onto the page until she had an answer, narrating her steps as if Max had any hope of following along.

"How do I do that?"

"You just kinda have to imagine two triangles that you can use this formula on, and go from that one to that one."

"How the hell do _I_ do that?"

"There's some triangle that's in between the two triangles, it has some parts of both, and you have to use it to connect the two."

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Yeah it does, you just have to visualize it!"

The urge to throw the textbook at the wall bubbled up to the surface again. Instead of waiting for it to subside, Max shouted "Visualize this!", grabbed the book from Brooke's hands, and hurtled it across the room.

It hit the closet door with a _whump_ and fell to the ground ungracefully, landing face-down and probably bending a few pages. Brooke sat, mouth agape, staring at Max, then the book, then back at Max again. She was probably almost as surprised at the outburst as Max was, but finally managed to speak.

"What the hell?"

"I can't. I just can't! I can't understand this shit and I can't do it; I'm not even supposed to be here!"

"Yeah, well don't drag me into it if you're gonna be like that." Brooke hurried over to the closet to retrieve her calculator and examine it for damage, then stuffed it into her backpack and glared at Max again.

Max stared at her. "What do I do?"

"You'll figure it out," she spat over her shoulder as she left the room and closed the door loudly behind her.

That left Max with a half page of unhelpful figures and a sinking feeling that she wouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the math nerds who are fuming: Yes, I know, I forgot about the Law of Sines when writing the first draft of this chapter, so I guess Brooke does too. In my defense it's been over fifteen years since I took a geometry class. I opted not to fix it because it ended up adding to the conflict between Brooke, who can apply laws intuitively, and Max, who needs to have a clear procedure to follow.


	78. Lying

All eyes were on Max as she opened the door and slipped into Kate's room.

"Sorry, I was getting help with math." The explanation failed to keep everyone from staring at her.

"Oh, sure." Kelly scootched over to free up Max's usual spot on the bed, and gestured invitingly.

Max sat, and expected the group to continue their conversation, but instead they looked around at eachother--or mostly at Max--until she felt like she had to say _something_.

"I mean, it was never my best subject, but now I'm like, weeks behind. I haven't even turned in any of the homework all week, and I skipped half the classes. And I know there's a quiz on Monday and I'm gonna fail it 'cause I have no idea what's going on, and I just flipped out at Brooke when she was trying to help me. Oh, and I already missed a test in Chemistry, and my girlfriend and I had an argument and I just... I just can't focus on school when I have all this shit going on."

An eyebrow or two raised at the word 'girlfriend', but no more than that, and Megan didn't even acknowledge Max's cursory uncloseting when she spoke:

"Yeah, I get that. Even with therapy my grades went down a bit, and I dropped most of my after-school stuff."

"I totally got that too," Tyra jumped in. "I mean I was pretty fucked up after everything. I barely graduated, then I dropped out halfway through freshman year."

"Yeah," Max said. "That sucks."

"At least it happened in May," Tyra continued. "Any earlier I'd've lost the scholarship and been totally fucked. Bad enough I had to go a whole month sitting in his class, acting like I didn't know what he did."

"Wait, you _knew_ it was him?" Lynn snapped.

"I remembered his face, and Nathan's a little," Tyra said. "I knew they did _something_."

"And you didn't tell anybody?" Lynn asked incredulously. "Jesus Christ."

"What was I supposed to do? I wasn't even sure _what happened_ , just that it was bad, and it had something to do with them. I could tell I wasn't raped, but not much else, and nothing made any sense. Like, who drugs and kidnaps girls and _doesn't_ fuck them?"

Most of the room winced at that. For all the talk about being free to express feelings, nobody had ever been quite so blunt. 

Except for Lynn. "Yeah, but if enough people complained, they'd start to see a pattern. I reported the whole thing, I just didn't have a name to give the-"

"I nearly got expelled just for reporting Nathan's drug dealing," Tyra practically shouted. "And I had proof of that. You think I could just go up to Wells and say this famous white teacher did... 'something bad but I don't know what'?"

"Yes! It could have stopped this shit years ago. You gotta report shit like this or it just keeps happening and nothing ever-"

"STOP IT!" It was the loudest noise Max had ever heard from Kate in the four months they'd known each other. "Stop! How can you even say such a thing?"

"Yeah." Max was glad _someone_ stopped it. "And... and maybe we should keep our voices down a little? That door's not exactly soundproof." _Or the walls._

Megan leaned forward to put her face back in the conversation circle. "I get it though, Lynn feeling like... what if somebody did something. I know it's not healthy, but I asked myself for months if there was anything I could've done to save Rachel and... I came up with a lot of things. Like, I didn't even tell Rachel what happened to me, and sometimes I wonder, maybe if I had..."

"I've felt guilty too sometimes," Kate said, and it surprised Max a lot more than it should have. "I knew Nathan had something to do with what happened to me, I knew it was bad, but I was afraid my parents or my church would find out if I said something. I didn't tell a soul until after he killed somebody."

Kelly stepped in. "There's a thousand things that could have stopped this if they'd gone differently; that's just the way the world works. It's not constructive to blame ourselves. Or especially not eachother. We're here for support. I know it's hard not to think 'what if' but we need to stop. There's tons of people who _should_ have stopped this, whose _job_ it was to stop this. Like teachers or the principal, or even the police. We're the victims of this whole thing, and we're just hurting ourselves saying it was our fault."

Max finally found her voice. "It really is hard, though. Everyone's told me I couldn't have helped, but I never believe them. Every time I remember it I feel like I could have done something to save her. I _know_ I could have, and I hate myself for not doing it. I know that's not healthy."

"It's not, but it's a tough habit to break", Megan added. "My therapist had to talk me through every 'what if' I could think of, and just kept reminding me to try and look at it without hindsight. Like, sure, _now_ I know I was drugged, but back then I wasn't so sure, like, maybe I just hit the booze way too hard."

"Yeah. I talked to Miss Gibson about it a little," Max lied. "She just, like, suggested better ways to focus and try and avoid negative thoughts. But everything's so stressful right now, I feel like I'm drowning sometimes, like nothing helps."

"There's no shame in taking a break you know," Kelly said. "I took a semester off after everything, just to breathe and stuff."

"Maybe. I don't think I have that option though. I've already gotten accepted to a few places, and scholarships and stuff. I can't screw that up, or I might never get to go."

"You know," Lucy said, "Miss Gibson said she does guidance counseling too. Maybe you should talk to her and see what your options are."

"I guess so."

Yet another perfectly reasonable suggestion that was _not gonna happen._ Max tried not to look too frustrated with Lucy; it wasn't her fault. Not Max's fault either. It was just how the world worked, and the conversation moved on.

 

Megan took up most of the remaining group time talking about all the times she wished she didn't exist anymore, and other topics that Max found uncomfortably familiar. 

Perhaps it was because Max had missed so much of the group, but the whole meeting felt rather short, and before Max had gotten fully comfortable Kelly's alarm was ringing, and the group members were departing.

Max caught a significant glance from Kate across the room. It looked like she wanted to talk to Max before she left, and Max could guess why. She was hardly in the mood, though, to discuss the academic troubles that she'd admitted to, even less so with someone so perfect. 

Fortunately, her spot right by the door made it easy to slip out of the room without any further conversation.

She wasn't able to avoid Kelly though. Max felt a tap on the shoulder as she was fumbling with her dorm room key, and turned around to see the girl towering over her.

"Hey, can we talk?"

"Uh, sure. What about?"

Kelly gestured to Max's door, and said "Maybe, uh..."

A conversation that needed privacy.

Never a good sign.

Max fumbled further with her keys until the door opened to admit them, and nervously closed the door after Kelly.

The room was still a disaster area; the coffee table was half clear now, but Max's Algebra book was still on the floor. _Oh god, she's judging me._

Kelly's first question drove any trace of that thought from her mind:

"Why are you lying to us?"

Every fiber in Max's body tensed up, and she focused intently on Kelly's plaid socks. She could feel her pulse rising, her breathing quicken as she imagined the rest of the group hurt and furious, asking her why she pretended she'd been drugged, why Kate let her in at all. _But how did-_

"Look, it's your business if you're not seeing Miss Gibson. But I don't get why you'd tell us you were.

It took Max several seconds to realize she wasn't completely doomed, and several more to order her body to relax enough to answer. "I- I was ashamed. 'cause I knew I should be."

"You're right, you should. We're here to support eachother, but we're not therapists; it's not fair to lay _all_ of your shit on everyone like that and expect us to be able to help. The whole thing barely works as is. I still don't know why Kate insisted on doing it without a real therapist on board."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't even get why you're not going. It's not like you're one of those people who thinks it's just for psychos and schitzos, right?"

"I tried talking with her once, I just never really... clicked with her."

Kelly rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Too bad she's the only therapist in the entire universe."

"I could stop coming if you want."

"That's like, the exact opposite of what you should be doing. Seriously, I think you need it more than any of us. But you need _more_. Smoking pot and chatting with a bunch of teens who are almost as screwed up as you are isn't gonna do you any good."

"Yeah, I just... I don't even know where to start."

"You got your parents' insurance right? Ask them."

"Then I'd have to tell them. I don't think I can."

"Are you worried about what they'd do?"

Max lowered her eyes to the eagle emblem on Kelly's jacket. "No... I mean, I'm sure they'd be supportive and stuff."

"God forbid you get support from people who love you."

Even without looking up, Max could see Kelly rolling her eyes.

"I'm just not ready."

"Nobody's ever ready for this shit. It just happens and you deal with it. Or you don't and it fucks you up hard."

She wasn't wrong.

Max nodded in defeat. "Thank you for... not talking about this in front of the group."

"Are you kidding? The whole thing is enough of a mess without this kind of drama."

"Wait, were you guys, like, talking about me before I came in?"

"Nah, Megan was going on about the time she tried to kill herself and like, shit was awkward for a bit. Don't worry about it."

Kelly rested a hand gently on Max's shoulder. "You're good people, Max. You just need to take care of yourself. Or at least let them do it for you."

"The group?" Max asked, confused. _Didn't she just say I shouldn't?_

"Your parents! Get out your phone and call them. No time like the present."

"Right." Max pulled out her phone halfheartedly and looked at Kelly, hoping that she wasn't expecting to stay and listen in. Fortunately she seemed to get the hint.

"Make that call!" Kelly smiled as she slipped out the door, leaving Max with phone in hand. Her father's number was right at the top of her favorite contacts. It'd only take a second to dial it, rip the bandaid off, and spill her guts about the dark room.

No idea in the history of the universe had ever sounded less appealing.

_I'll call. I just need to make sure it's safe first._

She put the phone away for now and opened up her laptop. _Maybe next week,_ she thought as the first episode of the night started to play.

_One more thing to be anxious about._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly the group isn't the only one Max is lying to.


	79. Free

  
Another fucking miserable day.

Wind. Cold. Rain, half the time. And nothing to do but study for the fucking GED. Even with Max visiting.

Chloe shifted carefully in her broken chair, just far enough to see her girlfriend out of the corner of her eye. Max looked up from her phone long enough to give Chloe a smile and a don't-you-dare look, then leaned back in the Freecycle'd beanbag chair and returned to her Instagram feed or whatever.

"Yes, _Mom_ ," Chloe said without thinking, and when she realized what she'd said she turned quickly back to her study book, doing her best to hide her wince.

_If line C intersects two parallel lines, and angle A is 112 degrees, what is angle B?_ Chloe glanced at the diagram and jotted down "68", and didn't even bother to check the answer with the back of the book before going on to the next problem.

_For right triangle T, if side A is 15 and side B is 20, what is side C (hypotenuse)?_

A lesser mind would have needed to plug the numbers into a^2 + b^2 = c^2 and use a calculator. Chloe saw the multiple of a 3-4-5 Pythagorean triple and put down 25. _Why do they keep giving me easy bullshit? It's just a fucking waste of time. I should just drag Max off and find some fun shit to get into._

_What is the area of an ellipse with a major axis of 12km and a minor axis of 9km?_

She reached for her calculator, then stopped. _Wait, am I supposed to answer in terms of pi? Or just give them a decimal approxi-_

"Chloe!" Max's shout came out of nowhere, and sent Chloe's pulse racing in panic. She looked around to see where the danger was, but the trailer seemed fine; the wind was quiet for the moment, and the skies were still a uniform light gray outside the window--no tornado. She turned back to Max just soon enough to see the girl leaping towards her, arms outstretched, to embrace her tightly and tearfully.

Chloe staggered backward against the table as Max hit her full-force. "What the hell?"

Max wrapped her arms around Chloe, and held on so tightly it was almost painful. "Oh god, I missed you so much!"

_Shit. This again._

Chloe pulled Max's arms roughly away from her sides and stood up. "You swore you weren't gonna fuck with time anymore. What did you do!?"

"I didn't... it's not... it's not _me_."

"Bullshit! This is exactly how it was when you did that photo thing. I told you, never go back. Even if I'm dead. How many people are we gonna kill this time?"

Max looked heartbroken. "I'm not from the future. And I didn't take a photo; my powers don't even work anymore! I don't know what caused this."

"Then when the hell _are_ you from?" Chloe demanded. "The past?"

"It's January, and I forget the day but it's a Friday."

"Like today."

"Yeah, but... I'm from the timeline where I stopped the storm! I've been getting visions of other timelines, just for a few minutes, then I go back and everything's back to normal like it never happened."

"You mean you... you know..."

"Yes. I went back and I let you... I let you die, but I wish I hadn't!"

"It didn't fix stuff?"

"It did. It stopped all the disasters and everyone's fine except you. And me."

_Fuck. It would've worked?_

"Is my mom alive?" Chloe asked.

"Oh. Yeah, she left David and moved back to Tennessee. Warren's still alive too, and Alyssa and everybody, even Kate, but it doesn't matter without you."

"Shit. I mean I don't know what to say."

"Aren't you mad? That I sacrificed you?"

"You did what I told you to do. 'sides, it's kinda hard to be mad at you for killing me when I'm still alive."

"Not in my timeline. I let you bleed out on the bathroom floor thinking nobody loved you. You should hate me."

After months of keeping her self-hatred and negativity in check for her own Max, maybe now was a good time to let loose.

"No, I- I admire you. This Max... she let everyone die just to save me. _You_ made the right choice." Chloe closed the distance between them, and gently guided Max's arms back around her waist.

"Even if it was right I can't live with it. I had to sit there and watch you die, then go on pretending everything between us never happened. Sometimes I wanna kill myself, it's so awful."

It felt so pitiful, the way Max clung to Chloe, as if she were the only thing keeping them afloat. _I probably shouldn't pretend,_ Chloe realized, _that this universe is any better._

"You think we don't feel the same way? Most of the town died to save my worthless ass; any day where neither of us wants to join them is a small miracle. You think you feel guilty _now_?"

"But we have each other here."

"Yeah. I won't lie, it's been good having you, most of the time. I'm sure I'd've lost my shit otherwise. Can't imagine how bad you have it all alone."

"I'm not totally alone. I told Kate and she believes me; I can talk to her about most of it, and there's... other people too. But it's not the same without you."

Chloe wondered for a moment what 'other people' Max was referring to, and why she wasn't naming them. But Max looked too pitiable to ask for details.

"Hey, everything's okay. I'm here." Chloe wrapped her arms around Max finally, and Max tightened her embrace until Chloe's midsection hurt again. _It doesn't feel the same,_ Chloe realized. It felt more like four months ago, grasping desperately for each other while the world was ending.

"I know but... in a few minutes I'll be back in my own timeline, and I'll never see you again."

"And my Max'll be back?"

"I guess so? I don't even know if this timeline is real or just some kind of... afterimage."

"I feel pretty real. But I'd say that either way wouldn't I." Chloe cracked a smile, and after a gentle nudge Max did the same.

But Chloe didn't let go, and Max certainly didn't either.

"You know, this life... it's not all that great. Things aren't perfect between us. We both wish you'd made the other choice, at least some of the time. And we're seeing like, five shrinks and it's barely making a dent."

"But you're alive! And you have a place to live, and me, and you're... you're studying! That's good, right?"

"A whole town died in my place. If I didn't try and make _something_ out of my life I'd've shot myself months ago. I've come close a bunch, hell, I know I did it once or twice, but when your girlfriend has rewind powers it tends not to stick. Sometimes I just wish you'd... _she'd_ let me die in peace."

"That's an awful thing to think."

"Yeah, well. I was always a depressed loser. Getting a girlfriend didn't fix that, it just fucked up _this_ Max's life too."

"But you have eachother, right? You can get through anything together."

Chloe snorted scornfully. "Wish I still believed that. It took us, like, a week before we realized the Power of Love wasn't gonna fix my depression, or your guilt complex, or anything really."

"Maybe not, but it's worse without it. Losing you was... it hurts so much."

Chloe softened her voice. "I'm sorry I put you through that. I'm sorry I abandoned you. I didn't even think about how bad it'd be for you, with me gone."

"I was the one who made the choice. I abandoned you, again."

"Don't think of it that way. Think of it like... you set me free. Like... I'm still out there, we just can't be together anymore."

Those words seemed to do a little bit to calm Max, at least for a while, and the two stood in the middle of the dilapidated trailer until Chloe felt the tingle of static electricity passing between them.

"I can feel it... I think I'm about to go back." Max's voice cracked as she choked back tears again. "I don't want to!"

"You'll be okay. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay..." Chloe ran her fingers through Max's hair, and it worked almost as well as it did with her own Max. "Goodbye, Max."

"Goodbye," Max sobbed.

"It's okay. It's okay," Chloe repeated, until she didn't need to anymore. Max's body felt smaller than it usually did as she went limp, and Chloe lowered her back into the beanbag chair delicately.

Max lay there for only a few seconds before springing back to life with a start. "Oh dog." She grinned sheepishly. "How long was I asleep for?"

It took every ounce of effort Chloe had to keep her voice even. "Just a few minutes, no biggie. Did you, uh, have any bad dreams?"

"Not this time. It's getting better, I think." Max looked at the table Chloe was no longer occupying. "Did you slack off while I was napping?"

"No, I'm still studying," Chloe moaned. "I swear, you never give me a break."

"Wanna take one now?"

"Fuck yeah!"

"What kind? More MarioKart? I brought some more Doritos... or we could just pull down the blinds again and..." Max grinned in a way that would normally have Chloe throwing off her clothes on the spot, but this time Chloe just squeezed Max's hand tightly.

"Maybe just the munchies and MarioKart?"

"You? Turning down sex?" Max narrowed her eyes jokingly. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

"Been a long week hasn't it."

"It's been a long _everything_."

"Yeah." Max squeezed the hand back, then dashed towards the TV. "Dibs on Yoshi!"

* * *

"Chloe!"

Her shout echoed through an empty courtyard, and Max awoke alone, sobbing in a heap at the bottom of the dormitory stairs. The concrete was freezing cold on her face, and the edges of the stone steps dug into her ribs, but she didn't get up.

_We would've been together_ was the only thought she could manage, it filled her mind with fantasies of a life with Chloe, ones that hardly fit in the dingy trailer she'd seen. _Together and happy,_ she imagined, _cruising down the highway to LA or New York or anywhere else. I could've had that._ Instead of hearing what Chloe had said, Max just saw her face, felt her chest pressed up against Max's, her fingers through Max's hair.

It was a few minutes before Max decided she couldn't stay lying there. Even then she took her time picking herself up, and stood shakily in front of the door for another few minutes, grasping with bare hands at the frigid railing to try and regain her balance.

Back upright, Max finally managed a thought about the real world, a moment of wondering why she hadn't been surrounded by worried friends and classmates like her last 'blackout'. Then she remembered how empty the quad was, and how late she was for class. Now she'd be ten minutes later, if she even bothered to go.

_Mrs. Hoida's pretty understanding, but twice in one week?_

It was a few more minutes, though, before she was able to leave the steps and stumble toward the main building, still unsure whether she was in any state to attend anything.

The door to Mrs. Hoida's classroom was closed as Max walked past it. Five minutes late wouldn't be too bad, but fifteen was definitely pushing it. And even if Mrs. Hoida would have preferred tardiness over truancy, there was no way rest of the class wouldn't notice Max walking in, sporting red puffy eyes and foundation mussed from lying on the sidewalk. Or her breaking out in sobs halfway through a discussion on The Lovely Bones, which was more likely than not at this point.

The halls were empty, at least. No principal to notice how broken she was and try to fix what can't be fixed. No busy crowds to feel alone in.

At this point she wasn't even sure of where she was going. Just not English class. Not the cafeteria either; even if the lunch ladies let her eat breakfast late like they always did, she wanted their pity even less than she wanted food. At the end of the hall she came to a door that said 'EXIT', and that sounded like just the thing.

It opened into a stairwell just like the one on the southern side of the building, which Max probably should have expected. On the left was a flight of stairs that led to what Max vaguely remembered was teachers offices and a few classrooms that she'd never had the occasion to set foot in. On the right was the actual exit, with a sign saying "Alarm will sound" that was probably just as much a bluff as it was in the other half of the building.

Two paths. Max chose neither.

There was a space under the stairwell, easily big enough to hide her from anyone passing through. _Unless somebody pulls the fire alarm._ That reminder did nothing to improve her mood.

_That was all it took._ One little lever, four months ago, stood between her and that vision being reality.

She curled up against the wall, dug her fingernails into her left shin again, and dashed off a text to Kate with the other hand.

**Max:** I need someone to talk to

The message sat there, unanswered, unread for all Max could tell. _Kate's in class, you fucking retard_. And Kate was far too perfect to sneak a peek at her phone in the middle of English. _Why fucking bother_.

Max found herself wondering whether this stairwell led all the way to the roof. _It probably does. And it's probably unlocked, just like the one in the dorm._

The thought of her own body face-down on the stone steps didn't scare her as much as it used to-- _already did that once this morning, this'd just be a harder landing_ \--until she imagined Kate seeing it and spending the rest of her life blaming herself for not checking her phone.

She dug her fingernails harder into her skin, until the thought went away. But that didn't work for long.

Max caught herself wondering if there was some way to kill herself without making Kate feel guilty, and her stomach turned over. _What the fuck am I doing?_

She opened her phone to try another text, or even a call, but stopped when she saw Victoria's name underneath Kate's in the conversations window. She tapped on it, and sent the same message:

**Max:** I need someone to talk to

There was no response to that one either. _It's what you deserve isn't it_ , she told herself. _You didn't even bother answering when Kate called. See how it feels? Ready to jump and your best friend doesn't even care?_

Max told herself that she wouldn't actually do it, but she accepted the thought that one day she might--would, even--and she was okay with that. Having an end in sight was almost comforting, even if she wasn't ready for it just yet.

_Fucking idiot. You had a choice between real love and destroying yourself. You chose this. And you-_

**Victoria:** Where are you?

The buzz of her phone snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts, and she tapped out her best guess as to her location

**Max:** North stairwell

**Max:** Under

It was only a few seconds before Max heard heels approaching the stairwell door, then a few more before Victoria wrapped her arms around Max, and Max finally broke down sobbing.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything!"

"Yeah, no shit, right?" Victoria almost smiled for a second, before hugging Max again, even tighter. "What's making it worse right now?"

Max finally found space in between sobs to string together more than one word.

"I saw Chloe!"

"You had a vision?"

"Yeah. I saw her, alive. And I know I'll never have that no matter how much I want it and-"

"It's okay, it's okay, let's just breathe easy. What did you see?"

"She was so beautiful, I just... She still had the same blue hair, but there was a red streak in it, and she was wearing this tank top with a mohawk unicorn on it and her other arm was tattooed now. And- and she still smelled like she always did, all sweat and leather and weed, and it felt so good, being with her again, and, and-"

"Hold on, where were you? Did she talk to you?"

"We were in this little shitty trailer and she was mad at me cause she thought I did a time jump again but I didn't, I didn't, I didn't mean to-"

"Woah, slow down. One thing at a time. What were you doing when it started?"

"There was a beanbag on the floor and I was sitting in it, browsing on my phone and-"

"I mean before it started."

"I was running out the front door of the dorm, 'cause I was late for class, then bam, I was in the trailer. No warning."

"What did you see around you?"

"I told you, I saw Chloe."

"I mean everything. Like what color was the carpet, were there posters on the wall..."

"Why does that matter?"

"It's something I do after every vision; going over every detail so I remember it better, make it easier to get my head around. I just thought it would help."

"I guess so? The carpet was green and, like, really grungy, and the walls were that kind of cheap ass fake wood that you see in old barbershops and stuff. I think there was just like, one or two posters by the table. Punk ones; her sort of thing."

"Okay, good. Painting a picture. How about the furniture and stuff?"

"I was in some old beanbag chair, on my phone watching some stupid cat video. Chloe was in a folding chair at the dining table. And it was one of those green fifties tables, pretty nasty looking. There weasn't any steering wheel or like... I don't think the trailer was the kind that went anywhere. Just the cheap shitty house kind."

"Okay, trailer like in trailer park, not like RV. Can't say I'm seeing the appeal of it but whatever. What did she say?"

Max paused and searched her mind for a moment. "I said her name, and then I went up to hug her and she pushed me off. She thought I went through a photo again, and she was mad, 'cause she said I promised not to anymore, even if... even if she died.

"I don't remember what I said but she believed me, that I didn't control it. That I was from a different timeline. I kept apologizing for letting her die, but she said I was right, that they couldn't live with the guilt. Then she asked about her mom."

"What about her mom?"

"Mrs. Price was in the diner, remember? She would've died in the storm in that timeline, but here she's alive."

Victoria hesitated for a moment before asking, "Was I dead too?"

"I don't know... probably. The storm was so awful, like, as big as the whole bay. And Chloe said most of the town died. And we... 'wanted to join them sometimes' is what she said."

"So... suicidal."

"Yeah. She said that it wasn't so great, living with her."

"Can't say I'm surprised," Victoria said. "I mean, you hate yourself for letting Chloe die, imagine if it was the whole town."

"I've had that kind of thought in this timeline too, though. Like, before you got here I was trying to stop myself from seeing if the door to the roof was open and just..."

"I don't blame you."

"You think I should?" Max asked.

"No! Jesus no! Holy fuck, how psycho would you have to be to say yes to that. I just mean, like, after everything you've been through, you kinda have a right to be that messed up. More right than I do that's for sure."

"I never saw myself actually die like you did. I came close a few times but I can't even imagine what that feels like."

"It's like... nothing hurts but you know it should, and nothing's the right temperature, and your body moves when you don't tell it to and it doesn't when you do. Everything feels a bit unreal, but not unreal enough that you don't know what's going on. And... you know how when you're sleepy and fading, but you can kinda jerk yourself out of it with effort or adrenaline or shit? It's like that; you're losing bits of yourself one at a time but you can't stop it, no matter how scared you are or how much you don't want to die. And it's slow. I thought it'd be like, out like a light, but it took forever. I keep wondering if that's how Rachel felt while she was dying, but she... never woke up from it, so it's not like I can ask."

Max's mouth was wide open, but she wouldn't have been able to make words come out if she wanted to.

Victoria looked at Max again and snapped out of the poetic. "Fuck, you weren't actually asking were you. Sorry, I wasn't trying to freak you. And really, after the third or fourth time it wasn't so bad." Victoria smiled ruefully. "Never thought I'd be used to getting murdered over and over again but eventually I'm just like, fuck, maybe I should do it that way for real. Even tried to buy some GHB but after Jefferson nobody in the whole county'll touch the shit."

"F-fuck. I'm sorry, Victoria."

"Hey, it's not _your_ fault."

"No, I should've left the timeline alone in the first place. Bad shit happens when you mess with it; that's like the lesson of every time travel movie ever and there I was thinking 'Oh I can do better'."

"Hey, if I had a chance to change time and undo what I did, to save Kate and make us okay, I'd totally do it. Even after everything you told me. Regretting shit you did is human nature."

"I guess. I just feel awful for... everything. Especially all the visions you're having."

"Don't feel too bad about it. I'd probably be a total cunt without them. I wish they'd fucking stop though."

"When was the last time you had one?"

"It was over break, right after Christmas. I'm probably overdue for one now."

"Let me know when you do. I want to be there for you. Kinda like you're here for me now."

"Okay, yeah." Victoria leaned against the wall next to Max. "Is there anything else you remember?"

"We were just talking, and hugging a bunch."

"Sorry, but I'm not getting why this was so awful you wanna kill yourself. She didn't, like, die or say she hates you at the end or anything did she?"

"No! It's just... I don't know why it would show me something I can't have."

Victoria lowered her head. "Oh. Yeah I get that. Do you really want it that bad?"

"She said I made the right choice letting her die, but I don't think so. She was alive. I want _that_."

"So you'd rather be bored sitting in a rank-ass trailer park with her than going to school and hanging out with me?"

"I..." Max tried hard to find some way to say 'no' without lying outright. "I don't mean it like that. I like you, I like being your girlfriend, it's just... everything else."

"Everything else sounds just as fucked up in that universe as it is here. I bet instead of nightmares about the bathroom you get them about the diner blowing up, and people getting chopped apart by debris, and Kate going splat on the pavement."

"I guess." It wasn't as if Max hadn't had those nightmares in _this_ timeline though. "She said something about therapists, and like, things were hard, but I really think we'd pull through in the end, as long as we had eachother."

"You really care about her that much?"

"I don't remember a time when I wasn't friends with her, that's how long we knew eachother. We did everything together, and we meant everything to eachother, and it would've been so much more if she was still alive. The week that we had together... we fell in love, and then it was all just ripped away from me."

"Look, if you could do it... switch back to that timeline, where everyone's dead except her..." It seemed to almost pain Victoria to ask the question. "Would you?"

The first answer that came to mind was a resounding 'yes', but she caught it before it escaped her mouth. She pictured, really pictured for the first time, what a life with Chloe would look like.

_Mrs. Price would be dead. Frank too--no difference there I guess. But Warren and Alyssa and Kate, and..._ Max looked at the girl sitting next to her and couldn't bring herself to wish Victoria dead.

"I... I don't know."

The stairwell was lined with light-green tile straight from the 1950s, and Max started at it but didn't really see it as she waited for Victoria to respond.

Instead, Victoria's hand found Max's and held on tightly. After a moment, Max squeezed it in return. They stayed like that for a minute or two, until Max remembered one last thing.

"I don't know how everything works, with all the visions, or timelines, or whatever we're seeing, but... Chloe said I didn't kill her, I just... set her free. But we couldn't be together."

"Then take that and hold onto it. She's out there somewhere. Remember it every time you feel guilty. She's in a better place now. It's time for you to move on."

Max exhaled dismissively. "You sound like the guy at her funeral. Like, 'be happy, she's in heaven'. That always felt like wishful thinking to me."

"I get that. I mean, I've never seen heaven. I don't believe in it. But you saw _this_ , whatever it was. So why not?"

"I guess so. And maybe that'll help sometimes. But she's still gone. And I'm still here, alone."

The sound of the school bell was muted in the stairwell, and they ignored it along with the buzz of Max's phone, probably messages from Kate.

"You're not alone, Max." Victoria leaned toward and rested her head on Max's shoulder. "Don't forget that. Don't forget what you have right now, here."

Max nodded. And for one brief, beautiful moment, she even believed it.


	80. Bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a long time coming, both in the writing process (I started the first draft all the way back in June, nearly a year ago) and narratively. I haven't been trying to have every tenth chapter be significant, but here you go.

The end started with a bang.

Max's History teacher in Seattle used to do it all the time when someone nodded off in class: A heavy book, dropped from shoulder height to land flat on the student's desk made a tremendous _smack_ , and a memorable lesson for the would-be napper. It was about the only excitement to be had in History, and the sight of Mr. Horn reaching for the extra-thick volume on his desk was enough to make the class go silent with anticipation. Max especially enjoyed it because she was never subjected to it; she did all her sleeping in Biology.

This time it was different.

* * *

_This is the dumbest fucking excuse for a party, ever._ The Vortex Club table sat in the main hallway, adorned with halfhearted posters of Martin Luther King Jr. and topped with Courtney's legs and Victoria's chemistry homework.

_It's not like I don't care about Black people,_ Courtney thought. _But who the hell throws a party for fucking MLK day?_ Clearly not most of the student body; she'd been at the table all afternoon and not one of them even looked in her direction.

Max never even looked up.

Courtney could guess why. _Bitch is still being all miss-sad-pants about it, three months later._ She'd seen Max pass through the main hall a half-dozen times today, studying the linoleum more intently each time.

Victoria had made it clear enough that Max was off limits, but... _Why? What the hell does she see in that loser? Not an ounce of fashion sense that Victoria didn't bribe or bully her into, no friends, no social life to speak of really. Just that pathetic expression all the time and that stupid. fucking. hipster. camera._

Lockers clanged open and shut, and students slowly dissipated, out the front doors to wherever-the-fuck. Courtney still had an hour left on her table duty.

_I bet if_ I _texted Victoria she wouldn't leave in the middle of class. They're joined at the fucking hip, but I'm the one stuck with the bitch's schoolwork?_

Max appeared again from behind the trophy case, and Courtney had a deliciously evil idea. It was so simple, and if she was lucky it would solve several problems at once. A small nudge sent Victoria's chemistry textbook tumbling toward the floor.

_Bang!_

There it was. That look. _Like someone just stepped on her puppy or something_.

"Jesus, what are you freaking out for." Courtney got up from the table, as nonchalantly as she could manage, and strolled up to Max.

Max's shoulders heaved, and she she said "Go away!" a bit too loudly.

Courtney was not planning on it. And this time there was nobody to carry Max to the principal's office. _No pansy-ass security guard to haul her off and make her feel special again._

"You gonna cry about that bitch that died?"

_Whiny Selfie Ho is really hamming it up now. On the floor and everything._

"Yeah, milk it why don't you. You're fucking useless and the only reason you're still here is 'cause nobody wants to kick out such a crybaby."

Courtney could see Max's eyes tear up. _Right on cue._

"Shut up!"

"Why? Want me to pretend that the world isn't better off without that worthless punk? No-one even misses her!"

_Fuck, this is just too easy._ Max lowered her wretched face, and Courtney knelt down to get a nice, close look at it.

"I bet dying on the floor is the _best_ she could've done with her life. Trying to blackmail Nathan? She had it comi-"

The first blow took her by surprise. It wasn't a _punch_ per se, but the side of Max's fist connected hard with her eyebrow and knocked her back onto the floor in sheer shock.

"Shut up!"

Courtney had at least six inches and 40 pounds on her attacker, but she'd already been off balance kneeling over Max, and the smaller girl had the advantage of speed, surprise, and a fury that Courtney would never have guessed she was capable of.

Courtney backed up to avoid the next blow, and the next, until her head hit the wall, and the world went fuzzy; there was just Max, and her fists, and a throbbing sensation in Courtney's temples. Her arms went up, almost on their own, to shield her face from Max's flailing arms.

Through the barrage of hits Courtney could see something crazed in Max's eyes, and in the way she shrieked 'Stop it!', and all Courtney could think was that she'd made a horrible mistake. She could hardly do much more than hold her arms up to defend herself as Max struck again and again, screaming through tears in a way that was almost terrifying, like a wild animal lashing out.

Then it stopped, and when she looked up there was Hayden, pulling a struggling and sobbing Maxine away from her, and making it look easy. And kind of hot.

She'd never really cared for the guy, but now... _maybe I_ should _be celebrating MLK day._

"What the hell is this!?"

Courtney looked to the source of the voice to see a tall, thin man in a tweed jacket glaring at all three of them from the doorway of the principal's office. She smiled. _Busted_.

"In here! All of you, now!"

* * *

"Sit."

It was not an order to be ignored, and just like that Max was at that goddamn desk again, with Dr. Leigh standing on the other side, staring out the window and looking older than he had the last time she was in his office.

Sitting in silence in front of Mrs. Evans' desk had given Max enough time to calm down, and the fury at Courtney and the universe had been replaced by the sinking feeling that she was in deeper trouble than she'd ever managed before. Watching Courtney, then Hayden rotate through the office, and imagining the testimony they were giving, had only made the feeling worse, and hearing her name called from Dr. Lee's door had felt like a death sentence. The only upside, if it could be called one, was that the morning's vision was pushed completely from her mind.

There were no friendly greetings or comforting small talk this time.

"I don't suppose you have anything to say for yourself, Miss Caulfield?"

"Courtney said-"

"I know what she said. She'll be dealt with separately. _This_ is about _you_."

When Dr. Leigh finally turned to face Max, he had a simple request: "I'm going to need the name of your therapist."

Of all the possibilities Max had prepared herself for while sitting in the front office, this was the one she was most afraid of. Yelling she could take, no problem. Parents... after what Courtney said they'd probably agree that the beating was well-deserved. Expulsion didn't even sound so bad right now. But no, he actually seemed to like Max, and as necessary as it had been, lying to him had never felt particularly great.

"I'd rather not." Max could feel the scrutiny from the other side of the desk, even without looking up.

"I'm not going to ask her for a dissertation, I just need proof that you're receiving treatment, and some assurance that you're not a danger to everyone around you."

"I'm fine!"

"Miss Caulfield, you are _not_ fine. People who are fine don't miss a third of their classes, they don't give other students _concussions_."

Max could hardly believe she'd done that much damage, but he wouldn't lie about that, and trying to disagree would be a bad idea. After a few seconds of mental arithmetic she decided not to object to the first point either.

"You could just start with the name, at least prove you're attending. Give me _something_ to work with."

Max sat in silent misery.

"You're not going at all, are you?"

She could have objected, but it wouldn't have worked this time.

"After all we talked about? I can't believe it. I refused to. But there's only one female threapist in Arcadia Bay, and she's works right here at Blackwell."

"I was-"

"Maxine Caulfield. You lied to me!"

"No, I didn't, I-"

"You told me you were seeing a therapist but you weren't. And now you've assaulted another student. Do you know what kind of position that puts me in?"

"No?"

"I can't let you stay on campus!"

Max's throat tightened, and she could barely choke out her response.

"What?"

"The last student who had untreated mental health issues _shot your friend_. The school is being sued into bankruptcy over it as we speak. I might like you, I might think that you're just a good kid in a bad situation, but after what you just did the board would have my head for taking on that kind of risk, no matter what the reason."

His words filled the air around Max like stones, crushing her chest and weighing her breathing down. Even if she'd had some kind of protest, it wouldn't have been possible to voice it.

"I'll be suspending you for two weeks, _off-campus_. During that time you will be attending therapy, and your return will be predicated on your therapist providing some kind of reassurance that you're not a danger to yourself or others."

"That's not fair!"

"Maxine, with your grades the past few months, I'd be well within my rights to revoke your scholarship entirely and send you home _for good_. I'm giving you all the leeway I can, and you're not even trying? _That_ hardly feels fair to me. I'll give you tonight to get your affairs in order and arrange a ride back home, but tomorrow morning I want you packed and on your way to Seattle. Do you understand?"

"I..." If there was ever a time Max wanted to spill the lot of it, it was now. But even as she pictured herself telling all about her journey through timelines, she knew there was no way she wouldn't sound like an absolute nutcase. Even with the support of Kate and Victoria, she'd be unlikely to convince any decent therapist, but Kate didn't deserve to be dragged into this, and there was no reason to believe Victoria would back Max up if she were hauled in.

So Max simply said "I understand." It was a choice, but it wasn't a hard one. Just bitter to swallow.


	81. Grounded

"Maxine Caulfield, What the hell were you thinking? Fighting with another student? You're lucky you're not expelled!" Vanessa Caulfield towered over Max, her voice more shrill than she'd ever heard it before.

"She started it!" Max said, through tears.

"That's no excuse," her mother shouted. "You can't just let yourself be goaded into fighting like Chloe. _She_ at least had the brains to do it _off school property_."

"I'm sorry."

"I should hope so, young lady! Do you have any idea what this could do to your future?"

"I'm sorry!"

"You _just_ started there! What kind of first impression do you think this makes?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Not sorry enough. First of all you're grounded for a month. No internet except for school, no concerts, no play practice, no soccer games, no allowance. That should give you plenty of time to write a nice long apology letter. Plus you'll be spending your suspension in your room, no computer, no music, no books except homework, no coming out except for meals."

"All of it?"

"All three days. I'm shocked it wasn't longer. Did they tell you Alison needed _stitches_?"

"But she was hurting him!"

Max's father finally spoke up, only the slightest bit less angry than her mother. "Then you get a teacher! You don't take this into your own hands, _ever_. Do you understand what zero tolerance means?"

"But it's not fair!"

"Even if it's not, fighting is unacceptable. Completely unacceptable. You can't just smack someone with your trapper keeper in the middle of the-"

The exhaust of a distant car snapped Max out of her memories, but it wasn't the Fiesta, and Max returned to staring at the pavement and dreading her parents' arrival.

The green suitcase sat next to her again, this time accompanied by her duffel bag, both full of everything she imagined needing for her two week exile in Seattle.

She'd gone overboard packing that morning to distract herself from what she couldn't prepare for: her parents shouting. The incident with Allie was the _only_ time she could remember them truly angry at her, and that had been bad enough.

After this she'd be lucky if they let her out of her room before college started. She could take that, but the tough part was that they'd be disappointed in her, and she truly deserved it this time. _Can I even go to college now? Or did I fuck that up too?_

It was hard to decide if she wanted them to arrive now and get it over with, or take the slower route and give her a few more hours to sit on the curb, stewing.

All signs pointed to the latter. She pulled out her phone to read over the texts from her dad again, even though she knew full well she was just torturing herself. It was a short conversation, mostly just a time and location for her pickup, but it was laced with phrases like "extremely disappointed" and "completely unacceptable". Max hadn't even had the courage to make a call; she'd let Dr. Leigh handle it and returned to her dorm room alone. She spent the night stewing in her misery, and resisting the temptation to climb to the dormitory roof--because she knew she might do something she'd regret halfway down. After hours of trying in vain to fall asleep without the help of drugs she'd finally given up, lit up, and drifted off to sleep.

The morning of her departure she'd waited until the hallway was completely empty before stealing out of her room, arms full of luggage, a large trashbag, and the Chloe Price Memorial Scholarship petition. The bag went in the trash room--the last thing Max needed was to come back to a family of mice in her dorm room--and the petition was slipped quietly under Dana's door on the way out without even a post-it note worth of explanation.

She'd been just as cautious dropping her dorm room key in the office mail slot, but she hadn't needed to. The whole building was empty, leaving Max alone as she braved the hallway one last time. _I guess getting kicked off campus isn't all bad_ , she'd thought as she glanced over her left shoulder at the bathroom door.

Now she was sitting on a freezing cold curb, instead of giving her goodbyes to Victoria or Kate or Dana, or even telling any of them what happened. It wasn't that she didn't have time to say goodbye. It was just that she couldn't.

The shame she felt from running away like that didn't yet outweigh the shame from her suspension, and probably wouldn't until halfway to Seattle, when it was too late. She could even see the regret coming, but at this point that sort of short-sighted self-sabotage was practically second nature, so she sat and shivered and waited.

After what felt like an eternity of scrolling through Instagram--because Netflix wasn't working--that familiar putter finally wafted up the hill through the pine trees, followed shortly by the outline of the old Fiesta.

As it got closer Max could see _two_ faces peering at her through the windshield, and it became difficult to swallow. _Oh god, Mom too!?_ There was no way that was a good sign.

The car came to a stop right in front of her, and she rose slowly to meet her father as he stepped out of the passenger door.

"Max, come here." The warmth that was always in his voice wasn't entirely gone, but there was a sternness that was unwelcome, if not unexpected.

"I'm sorry."

"I know." He placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "I am too." What he had to be sorry for was beyond Max's guess.

"Wh- Why?" _Maybe he means 'disappointed'?_

He sighed loudly and hefted Max's suitcase into the trunk, and held out his hand for the duffel bag. "Just get in."

At least there was no yelling.

Yet.

Max made herself as comfortable as she could in the back seat, and her father started the lecture as her mom pulled away from the curb.

"I don't understand it. I thought we taught you better than this."

"You did, I just... screwed up."

Vanessa chimed in: "I'll say. Two weeks off-campus suspension? And you could have been arrested! We could be sued!"

"I just don't understand how you let it get this bad without telling us," Ryan added. "I mean, maybe you wanted to be a big kid and handle it on your own, but skipping therapy?" He turned from to face Max. "This is something nobody should ever have to face alone, no matter how old you are. After seeing Chloe die, and what Jefferson did to you..."

Max realized why he was looking right at her, and froze. "W- What? He- He didn't-"

"Don't lie to us," Ryan interrupted. "It kills me when you lie like that. You don't have to talk about it, just please, stop pretending it didn't happen."

"Who told you I was-"

"You called it 'the Dark Room'," Vanessa said. "Only a few people ever referred to it as that. And those documents you told me about were in it. I'm not stupid. There's no way you could have known so much about the investigation without being involved."

"And the way you've been acting..." Ryan said. "We should have known something was wrong sooner. I feel like we let you down."

"Not that you didn't let us down too," her mother added. "I kept telling myself you were an adult, and you deserved your privacy. I thought you were taking care of yourself, and you'd tell us when you were ready. We trusted you to do the right thing."

Her father signed. "I just don't understand why you didn't."

There was a roll of coins sticking out of the cup holder at the back of the center console, and Max stared at it intensely, watched it shift slightly as the Fiesta stopped and started at each intersection, avoiding her father's gaze.

After months of wishing she could tell them all about it, the feeling was not as pleasant as she expected. Maybe it would have been better if she'd had the chance to admit it of her own will, but now their gaze, their scrutiny, their just _knowing_ felt like a speculum; invasive and terribly uncomfortable.

For a split second Max was back in the dark room, drugged and strapped to the chair again in front of Mark Jefferson's lens, and her parents were looking on, horrified. She hoped to god--or the butterfly, or whatever the hell was out there--that there were no photos of the dark room in the newspapers, or in her mom's pile of subpoenaed papers, and pushed the image far enough away to manage an "I'm sorry", barely audible over the sound of the ocean wind whistling through the gaps in the car's old windows.

"I know it's a really painful thing to have to talk about. But it hurt, you know, you keeping something like that from us. We've always done everything we could to let you know you can tell us anything, no matter what, and we'll still love you. We will _always_ love you."

The conversation was not going anywhere near what Max had expected. "You're not mad?"

"I wouldn't say that," her father said.

Her mother caught Max's gaze for a moment through the rearview mirror. "We're furious that you lied about therapy. I don't even understand it! They had one right on campus, she even made an appointment with you, and you blew her off and lied to her? You should know by know, it's for your own good."

"That's... that's actually not how it happened."

"Oh, I can't wait to hear _this_."

"No, really. I did see her, but it was just once and I just... didn't like her much, and I thought I'd be okay, so I didn't go back. I went to the group with the other girls, but no one said anything about therapy at all 'til Dr. Leigh, after the flashback in December."

Her mother glanced toward the passenger seat, and her father shrugged and said "That's pretty much how I heard it."

"Seriously?!" She gripped the steering wheel, and the car came to a jerking halt at the stop sign at Main Street. "Is that- Ugh! They didn't follow up at all?" She shook her head as she made the turn toward Seattle, a bit faster and sharper than was really necessary. "I know _in loco parentis_ is dead but that's just..."

"That doesn't excuse it though." Ryan glanced over his shoulder, meeting Max's eyes with his best 'disappointed' look. "A group isn't a substitute for a one-on-one meeting with a real psychotherapist. You really should've given Miss Gibson more of a chance. It can be tough, especially starting out. But if you still didn't like her after a few visits you should have done the responsible thing and found someone else. And you _definitely_ shouldn't have lied to Principal Leigh."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are. And I suppose that's a start."

"Do I need to write an apology letter to Courtney?"

"Hardly," Vanessa said. "We heard about what she said. She deserves her punishment as much as you do yours. I don't even understand how someone can be that nasty. Maybe an apology to Dr. Leigh wouldn't be remiss, though."

"It wan't just what she said. She knocked a book off the table. I think it was on purpose, and it was in the hallway right by the bathroom, and the bang reminded me of... you know..."

Max really didn't want to have to finish that sentence, and was glad to be interrupted by her father. "Oh, honey. I don't know why we let you stay there after everything. I don't know how we missed it."

"It's not your fault. I just didn't want to worry you. I was trying to be strong."

"There's a difference between being strong and ignoring your own health though," Vanessa said. "Did you really think you were doing okay?"

Max let her silence answer that one.

"Do you even know how many classes you're failing right now?"

She answered that with a slight shake of the head.

"Two!" Vanessa answered for her. "And you're barely passing Photography. That should be your best subject."

Actually, that was slightly _better_ than Max had feared, but she made sure her relief didn't show on her face.

"It would almost be forgivable if you were really trying to get better. Depression and PTSD are real things, and they can turn your life upside-down no matter how strong you are. But you weren't even trying!"

Everything they were saying was true. Her reasons had seemed to make sense at the time, but now the only defense Max could manage hardly felt like a defense at all anymore; more like an excuse.

So she kept her mouth shut, and so did they. Soon enough, a few miles had passed in silence, with Max wishing she could melt into the seat cushion and her parents probably deciding what her sentence would be.

 

"You know we love you."

Her father said it out of the blue, just as the car turned away from the coast to head towards the interstate. Max could only muster up a nod in response, and he continued.

"Whatever happens, we'll be there to help you through it, as long as we're still around. But you need to be a grown-up and take responsibility for yourself too. So you're going to be in charge of finding yourself a therapist."

It suddenly became hard for Max to swallow. "Can't I just go back to Mrs. Roth? She was good."

"I called her, but she specializes in learning issues and social anxiety, not this kind of trauma. She emailed me a list of referrals; I'll go through it and figure out who's covered, and you can use the copay card, but you'll be responsible for calling them, scheduling meetings, and getting yourself there on time. You should probably talk to more than one before you make a decision."

"And in the meantime," her mother added, "no more Netflix. I looked at your watch history, and that's _not_ healthy."

Max would have been fine with being grounded, perhaps even welcomed the excuse to stay in her room for two weeks. But... _I gotta find my own therapist, and no TV? That's cruel and unusual. And fitting,_ she realized with some discomfort. _Even if they believed in the time travel they'd probably still make me go. And they'd be right._ Once again Max found herself glad for the suspension: A therapist in Seattle wouldn't have the list of Mark Jefferson's victims, and couldn't know that Max wasn't on it. _One less lie I'll have to tell._

She swallowed hard, and finally croaked out "okay."

"We're here for you, every step of the way. But you have to actually take those steps, you know?"

Max knew.

She stated out the window, waiting to see if her parents had any lecture left, but the car lapsed into quiet again, and before she knew it she was waking up in the back seat with a refreshed feeling that mostly made up for her sore neck.

It would have been nice to have found that she slept through the entire trip, but no such luck; the car was surrounded by the pine trees and parking spaces of another highway rest stop. Her mother sat in the driver's seat reading some paperback novel; Dad was nowhere to be found but Max could guess where he'd run off to. She did her best to stay quiet, glancing over in the direction of the restrooms every once in a while hoping to see his face emerge.

She realized as she saw him appear that taking a pit stop herself wouldn't be a terrible idea, the need wasn't urgent, but she really didn't want to have to ask them to make one later... _Best not risk it._ She pulled on the door handle gently, managing to escape before her mother decided to say anything else.

That, however, put her on a course straight towards her father, and he slowed down to meet her at the halfway point.

"Max?"

"I just gotta go. I'll be quick." Their lecture hadn't ended that badly, but she still had difficulty meeting his gaze.

"Sure." He smiled. "Don't worry, we won't leave you behind."

He was kidding, of course, but it felt a bit too soon for that kind of joke, and Max gave the cracks in the sidewalk even more scrutiny than usual.

"Hey." He closed the few feet between them and put his hands on her shoulders. "It's gonna be okay."

"No it won't! I was gonna go to college and be a photographer. And I just... ruined everything."

"I'm sure you'll get there. Maybe not exactly how you planned but this isn't the end of your life, and certainly not your career."

"It kinda feels like it."

Her father smiled. "It's just school. It doesn't matter as much as everyone says. Or at least not in the way they think."

Max tried her best to believe it, but didn't stop staring at the pens in his shirt pocket.

Her father stooped down to look her in the eye. "Hey, what do we do when we make a mistake?"

"Don't... do it again?" Max was not prepared for a quiz.

He nodded. "We learn from it. And what do we do when we fall down?"

This one she knew. She'd better, after all the times he'd asked it before.

"We get back up again."

"That's my girl. Now go do your stuff. I'll be in the car."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever wondered about the title for Chapter 52, it might make a lot more sense now.
> 
> And yes, the "What do we do when we fall down?" is a based on a quote from a movie you might remember, but it's not verbatim--in fact, I think it's different in a way that's kind of interesting.
> 
> There are quite a few loose threads to tie up, but this chapter marks the beginning of the final arc of this work. By the time I'm done I expect it to be longer than _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ , which is completely unreal. I don't have a final chapter count, but I'll probably figure that out in the next few weeks. Thank you all for sticking in there, and making this worth writing.


	82. Home

Max's room was warm, and empty, and she was enjoying the solitude. There hadn't been much more to say after her dad's little speech at the rest stop, but even without any more lectures just being stuck in the car with her parents had been draining. The moment they'd arrived she'd gone straight up to her room--even though she hadn't been told to--and she didn't plan on coming down until dinner. Instead of TV she opened her laptop and strolled through whatever social feeds she could find, liking cats and art projects and the occasional vacation photo.

The muted clatter of pots and dishes and a mix of pleasant smells drifted up the stairwell and under her door, a sure sign that her father was enjoying himself in the kitchen like he always did. The door to Mom's office was closed, meaning there was email to catch up on. For a while Max could almost pretend that it was a normal Saturday afternoon.

Then the gentle buzz of her phone sent her into a momentary panic. She didn't even have to look down at the screen to know what was coming. It was a conversation she was dreading since her sentence was handed down, but putting it off until now had made it even worse.

Max answered the phone hesitantly.

"Hi, Kate."

"Max! Are you okay?"

"Oh! Yeah. I mean, I've been worse."

"Where are you?"

"I'm back home. In Seattle."

"I was scared! You were really shaken yesterday after the vision, then this morning I couldn't find you anywhere, and Dana said something about a fight! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Not so sure about Courtney though."

"What? Max, did you... hurt her?"

"Probably not too bad. At least, not as bad as she deserved. I'm not exactly a Krav Maga master."

Kate paused for a moment. "I don't understand."

"I lost it. She was saying awful stuff about Chloe and I just snapped and went after her."

"What do you mean, 'awful stuff'?"

"Like, Chloe had it coming, nobody misses her, that sort of shit. And it was kind of in the middle of another flashback, 'cause she dropped a book on the floor."

"That's terrible! I can't blame you for seeing red but... you really attacked her?" Kate sounded almost as impressed as she did horrified.

"Yeah. Hayden had to drag me off." Max was glad her brief smile wasn't visible across the phone connection. "Then the principal saw it and chewed me out, for cereal."

"And you're in Seattle now?"

"Yeah. I'm suspended for two weeks. Off-campus."

"Two weeks!? That's horrible! How could he do that?"

"'For my own good' apparently. He kinda figured out I wasn't seeing a therapist. He said stuff about liability, too. If I had normal problems he'd be totally right, but..."

"Why didn't you tell me? I didn't even get to say goodbye to you!"

Max was surprised it took this long for Kate to get upset. Max could hardly blame her. _She deserves better than that._

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I left early this morning; I was just busy packing and freaking out about what my parents would say."

"You could have called me though. Or even a text. It... doesn't make me feel good, having to hear this from somebody else."

"I know, and I'm sorry. It was nothing personal, I just... couldn't deal with things last night, so I had my phone off."

"Did you tell Victoria?"

"No, I didn't. I guess I should?"

"I'm not gonna do it for you, Max."

"Right."

"You should probably talk to Dana too, she's almost as worried as I was."

"Yeah, I'll text her."

"So, uh..." Kate changed the subject conspicuously. "How was the drive home?"

"Long quiet and awkward. At least there wasn't too much shouting."

"Are they taking it okay?"

"Better than I thought. They did this sorta weird half-angry half-sorry thing where they were really mad that I skipped out on therapy, but they figured out Jefferson drugged me, so they were mostly sympathetic."

"But that didn't happen. At least not in this, you know..."

"Over Christmas break I said a few things to my mom that I thought would help the lawsuit. It was... stuff that I learned in the other timeline. I was trying to be clever about it, but I guess I wasn't clever enough. They probably could have guessed it anyways though, just from how I was acting. One of my friends even figured it out, after I went to a concert and I was too scared to drink anything."

"That's good, though. Right?"

"I guess so. I didn't really want to tell her, but..."

"I'm sure she cares for you a lot. I'm sure they all do."

"Yeah. That doesn't make it easier to talk about though. It might even make it _harder_. I mean, when I first told them about the shooting I didn't admit I was _in_ the bathroom, and they still gave me this _look_ , like I was some orphaned baby seal or something."

"People look at me like that _all the time_ , Max. The entire school knows that I was drugged; half of them still think it was worse than just photos. But the people who know me, and really care about me... they're the ones who treat me like a real person. I'm sure your friends will too, once they get used to it. But that won't happen until you tell them."

"I'm still not looking forward to it."

"It'll be better when you get past it, Max. I promise."

"I know. Uh, listen, Kate, I gotta go downstairs and have an awkwardly silent dinner with my parents. I'll talk to you later. And I'm sorry."

"It's only awkward if you let it be." Max could hear Kate's smile through the phone line. "Don't worry about it. Just go eat; I'll talk to you later."

"Right. See ya."

Kate hung up quickly at least, rather than letting the uncomfortable goodbyes linger.

Dinner _was_ starting to smell good, but her dad said six, and there was no way Max wanted to go down twenty minutes early.

 _Besides_ , Max remembered, _Kate's not the only person I need to tell._

She didn't have to scroll down far to find Dana's messages, timestamped just a few hours ago:

 **Dana:** WTH happened with u n courtney?

 **Dana:** There were crazy rumors about u beating her up n getting expelled

 **Dana:** and I just found ur petition under my door

 **Dana:** Please tell me ur ok

Then an hour later:

 **Dana:** srsly M im freaking tf out

 _Better late than never_ , Max thought as she swallowed her guilt and tapped out a response.

 **Max:** I'm fine

 **Max:** Not expelled, just suspended for two weeks

 **Max:** And she deserved it

 **Dana:** When doesnt she? :)

 **Dana:** What she do this time?

 **Max:** She tried to trigger another flashback by dropping a book on the floor

 **Max:** Then while I was freaking out she got up in my face and said Chloe deserved to get shot

 **Dana:** Shit thats like what Hayden said

 **Dana:** Shes a fukkin psycho

 **Dana:** Def deserved to get beat tf up

 **Dana:** I hope she got in a ton of trouble too

 **Max:** Dr. Lee just said she'd be dealt with separately

 **Max:** Which I figure is code for 'basically scot-free'

 **Dana:** Im not so sure

 **Dana:** She was so pissed and kept saying things werent fair

 **Max:** Whatever. Not sure I even care.

 **Max:** I just wanna get shit taken care of so I can come back

 **Max:** Get this fucking year done and over with

 **Dana:** Dont blame you

Max wasn't sure what else she had to say to Dana, so she switched windows to another conversation that she'd been ignoring for a bit too long.

 **Victoria:** Did you really beat the fuck out of Courtney?

 **Victoria:** I've never seen her so pissed

Max considered the type of reply that would work best for Victoria and tapped it out on the screen:

 **Max:** She deserved it

 **Max:** She triggered another flashback by dropping a book in the hallway

 **Max:** So I was kind of messed up and not thinking straight

 **Max:** And then she said Chloe deserved to get shot

 **Victoria:** I don't blame you

 **Victoria:** Bitch had it coming

 **Victoria:** I can't believe they sent you home

 **Victoria:** It's totally fucking unfair

 **Max:** No, it's fine

 **Max:** The principal's just trying to help me

 **Max:** He was mostly mad that I lied about going to therapy

 **Max:** He could've kicked me out completely but he wants me to see a therapist and come back

 **Victoria:** That's bullshit

 **Victoria:** You have good reason not to get your head shrinked

 **Max:** Yeah but it's not like I can tell him that

 **Max:** He's doing what he thinks is right

 **Max:** And unlike Wells he actually cares about students, instead of just big donors and their kids

 **Victoria:** God Courtney's such a fucking bitch though

 **Victoria:** I hope she chokes to death on a cock

 **Max:** I hope she realizes how hurtful she's been, and feels bad about it

There was no way Max would admit it to Victoria, but 'Choke on a cock' didn't sound like _that_ bad of an idea either.

 **Victoria:** Yeah, a few dark room visions ought to do the trick

 **Max:** That's an awful thing to say

 **Victoria:** It's true though

 **Victoria:** I know her type

 **Victoria:** I used to BE one

 **Victoria:** Only thing that works is a taste of their own medicine

 **Max:** Please don't mess with her. I don't need you to avenge me

 **Victoria:** No promises

 **Victoria:** Bitch is trying to edge me out. She needs to be put in her place

 **Max:** At least promise me you won't do anything stupid

 **Victoria:** Don't worry about me

 **Victoria:** I got some party prep to do but I'll ttyl

 **Max:** Ok, bye

Halfway through opening Facebook again Max noticed more unread texts, and switched back to look at them.

 **Dana:** So sorry you have to deal with this shit

 **Dana:** I should of been more supportive

Max winced at the grammar but resisted the urge to correct it.

 **Max:** It's not your fault.

 **Max:** You've been as good a friend as I could ask for

 **Max:** I'm just more messed up than you can do anything about.

 **Dana:** What should I do then?

 **Max:** Don't worry about me, you just take care of yourself

 **Dana:** I mean the petition

 **Max:** Oh, right

 **Max:** I guess just get any signatures we missed and then send it to Dr. Leigh

 **Dana:** Got it

 **Max:** Make a photocopy first just in case

 **Dana:** Good idea ill do that

 **Dana:** Good luck!

 **Dana:** Get well soon!!!!

The sentiment was slightly off, but Max appreciated it anyways, likening life-altering trauma to something that could be cured by a few doctor visits and a pill or two. _If only it was that simple._

It was a few minutes past six now, and the cooking smells had coalesced into something delicious, perhaps a roast or a nice beef stew. _Maybe being back home isn't_ all _bad?_ Max thought as she opened the door and finally descended to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Don't do anything stupid"? Come on Max, you should know better than to tempt fate like that.


	83. Lesbian

**Dana:** Holy shit Max

 **Dana:** Victoria just outed u 2 the entire vortex party

The text messages interrupted an otherwise quiet Sunday dinner in the nook of the Caulfield family kitchen. Most of their meals had been rather quiet lately; her parents had their usual conversations and Max could have joined in if she wanted to, but she was still feeling residual disappointment whenever she was near them.

At first she just snuck a quick peek at the screen as she always did, but from the few words she could see, this conversation merited her full attention. Her father raised an eyebrow at her, seemingly more amused than bothered at Max checking her phone in the middle of a meal.

"I gotta take care of some stuff," she said as she put her spoon down. Having to slide down the bench to get out from behind the table made the exit slow and painfully conspicuous, and she could feel them watching her as she made her escape.

At least she didn't need to ask one of them to move.

"I'll finish later," Max said, leaving a half-finished bowl of Pasta E Fagioli and her parents sitting at the table. She barely looked up at them as she excused herself to her room. "Sorry, this is kind of important." That at least made them look slightly more concerned that annoyed, rather than the other way around.

Another text arrived as she ascended the stairs, and as soon as she was safe she pulled her phone out and read it.

 **Dana:** I cant believe it

 **Max:** It's okay

 **Dana:** She just went nuts and hit Courtney and drove off

Max flopped down onto her bed and began the damage control.

 **Max:** We were planning to make it public at the party anyways

 **Dana:** She was talking about how much she loved u n everything

 **Max:** Remember I was pissed that she was staying closeted

Max clutched her phone nervously as she reread Dana's text.

 **Max:** Wait did she actually use the L-word?

 **Dana:** She def called herself a big fat dike

 **Dana:** Her words not mine

 **Dana:** And she said u were her gf but pretty sure she didnt say lesbian

 **Max:** I mean "love"

 **Dana:** O

 **Dana:** Shit I dont remember

 **Dana:** She talked about how wonderful u were and how dare Courtney bully u

 **Dana:** She def said "Dont fuck with my girlfriend bitch!" and smacked the fuck out of her in front of everybody

A smile began to spread across Max's face, and she decided not to even try to suppress it.

 **Dana:** Then she said shes leaving forever and just drives off in2 the sunset

 **Dana:** Would of almost been sweet if the whole thing wasnt so uncomfortable

 **Max:** Figures. She was super-pissed when I told her what happened

 **Max:** I wasn't exactly hoping to make the announcement like that but I don't blame her

She opened a new chat window and composed a text to Victoria, leaving Dana's next few messages unread:

 **Max:** Hey, remember when I told you not to do anything stupid?

 **Max:** This was kinda what I meant

Max waited for a response for several minutes, but didn't get one, and soon her imagination started to fill in blanks.

_What if she..._

_No._ Max tried not to think of the possibility, but she couldn't push from her mind what Victoria had said last month:

_"I sure know how to make a dramatic exit, don't I."_

She sent one last text to Victoria,

 **Max:** Are you okay? Please call me

Then she switched back to Dana's window right away and tapped out a message:

 **Max:** Did she seem angry at herself or anything? Was she drunk?

 **Dana:** The partly barely started but she could of pregamed like usual. Hard 2 tell w her

 **Max:** What exactly did she say?

 **Dana:** Something like 'fuck it im out of here never coming back 2 this shithole'

 **Max:** Okay thanks

 **Max:** Let me know if you see her again

 _Sounds less suicidal and more like leaving in a blaze of glory_ , Max thought. But even that didn't reassure her completely, and there was still no answer from Victoria herself, so Max scrolled down to the latest 'Unknown' chat, saved the contact as 'Taylor', and sent a message:

 **Max:** Is Victoria... in a bad way again?

 **Taylor:** Fuck if I know

 **Taylor:** She just went psycho on Courtney and drove off

 **Max:** I heard

 **Taylor:** And she blabbed about being gay and your whole dating thing and went on about how amazing you were

 **Taylor:** I never saw her like that before

 **Taylor:** All doe-eyed and shit

 **Taylor:** It was kinda unnerving TBH

 **Max:** She's not gonna do something bad is she?

 **Taylor:** I have no idea what the hell she's gonna do

 **Taylor:** Didn't look as miserable as she usually does

 **Max:** Thanks. Please let me know if you hear from her.

With that, Max's phone fell silent, and after a few minutes with no messages there was little else to do but finish her dinner.

Back downstairs, her soup was barely lukewarm, and sat alone on the table; her father was at the breakfast bar starting up an episode of The Deadliest Catch, and her mother nowhere to be seen, perhaps retired to the second floor office.

She pulled up a bar stool next to her dad and set her soup down by his laptop. Normally he would be providing commentary on the marine equipment on screen, but today they watched wordlessly until the credits rolled, and he closed the laptop.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He asked, as always, in such a way that a 'no' would probably be just fine.

"It's nothing," Max answered, almost reflexively. "Just some drama at school." She met his gaze and caught herself. _He deserves better than that._

Max took a deep breath. "Victoria heard what Courtney said to me in the hallway and slapped her."

"Courtney's the girl you attacked, right?"

It was kind of disturbing how casually her father asked that. Like _oh, Kate's the girl you had tea with, right?_

Max answered uneasily. "Y-yeah."

"And Victoria's your girlfriend. Is she going to be suspended too?"

She had to think about that one for a second. "I don't know. Maybe not? It was off at some party, instead of right next to the principal's office."

"See? That's what you should've done." He smiled, and looked right at Max until she did too. After a poorly-suppressed snort or two they broke out into a laughter just quiet enough that Vanessa wouldn't be able hear it from her office. "Don't tell your mom I said that."

"Of course not!" The warning was entirely unneeded but still welcome. Their own little secret.

He rested a hand on Max's shoulder. "Your girlfriend sounds like a keeper at least."

He hadn't _meant_ to kill the mood like that of course, but Max couldn't entirely hide how delicate a subject that was. "Maybe? She's made some mistakes, sometimes. She was pretty mean to me for the first month of school. She... did some things we both wish she hadn't, and the whole Jefferson mess made everything way worse. But we're working through it."

"Okay." Her father paused to consider his words. "You remember those red flags I made you memorize way back? They don't just apply to dating boys."

Max should have expected _that_ lecture. "I- I- I know. She's not... like that. She cares about me. She's just a bit messed up."

Her father didn't quite look reassured enough. "Messed-up people can be abusive, no matter how much they care about you. It happens a lot in fact."

He was right, of course. _Just in general. Not about Victoria._ The arm resting across her back, which had felt gentle and reassuring a moment ago, was now trapping her in this conversation.

"It doesn't mean they're a bad person," he continued, "any more than you punching Courtney makes you a bad person. But no matter how bad somebody has it, it doesn't make it okay for them to hurt you."

Max stared at the oven across the room, thankful that their position made the lack of eye contact forgivable, and even more thankful that she hadn't mentioned being outed. "I know. And she's not. She hasn't. Things are just... messy."

"Well I..." He paused for a moment. "I was going to say that I trust you to handle it maturely and ask for help if you need it. I guess I still do."

Max looked at the laptop on the counter. "Why? Didn't I fuck that up?"

"Because you could have left it at 'school drama' but instead you let me in, like you used to. And because otherwise you'll never grow."

Max felt the arm around her give a quick squeeze, and then let go.

"Does she make you happy?" he asked.

Max didn't have to think too hard about that question before nodding. "She does."

"Well good. You deserve nothing less than the best."

"She is. She can be really nice once she opens up. And yeah, it's sweet that she wants to stand up for me and all. I'm kinda worried now 'cause nobody knows where she went off to after the party, and she can be a bit... self-destructive sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow at the last part, but thankfully didn't say anything. "I see. Well I hope everything turns out all right. Just remember, you can tell me anything. Or your new therapist, I'm sure." He smiled gently, not noticing Max's wince as he opened the laptop again. "Or even your mom--she might not be so easygoing, but she still loves you."

"I think I'll just stick to you for now," Max said, and rested her head on his shoulder.

By the end of the next episode she'd managed to mostly forget about Victoria. At Blackwell, 10PM meant 'time to watch a half-dozen more episodes' but her father closed the laptop lid and gave her one last hug before disappearing into the bedroom.

Max was alone, then, when she trudged upstairs, and when she brushed her teeth, and changed into PJs. She was even more alone every time she checked her phone to see if there were any more messages.

Most nights Max set it to silent, but not tonight. Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you all take up torches and pitchforks, I'm not necessarily saying Victoria is abusive. Max is just being awkwardly vague out of her own sense of privacy, and Ryan's 'red flags' reminder is an entirely reasonable reaction to how awkwardly Max describes her relationship. Right?


	84. Love

  
There was something on the line.

Back in preschool Max's father had made her a toy fishing rod from a dowel and some yarn, and painted it to look like the ones he sold in the store. She'd dragged it to and from the docks every chance she got, and he'd taken her for trout fishing a few times in streams nearby. Since it had a bent paperclip for a hook she'd never caught anything more than one extremely unlucky crayfish.

But now Max felt something powerful tugging on the end of the string. She couldn't tell what it was, but it was way bigger than anything Max had ever fought before--even with a real rod--and she was struggling.

The storm would hit the docks any minute, but there was still a few more yards of yellow yarn to reel in. Whatever she'd caught was impossibly heavy, but it was so close, and she could almost see a face on the end of the line. _Dana's face? Or is it..._ It was hard to tell with the massive swells, which dashed the dock against the pilings and made it hard to even stand, let alone see into the depths. Whatever--or whoever--it was, she had to reel them in soon. But the toy crank wasn't doing anything, and she was running out of time. The rod threatened to pull her off of the dock, and the storm buzzed loudly in her ears, sounding oddly like her cell phone, and she awoke with a start.

_Holy fuck that was a weird dream._

Max reached from underneath the thick comforter and grasped her phone. There were unread messages, and she was relieved to see who they were from, until she read them and groaned.

**Victoria:** I'm fine

**Victoria:** Could you come down and let me inside? It's fucking freezing out.

**Max:** Are you drunk? I'm not at Blackwell anymore

Max was about to silence her phone and go back to sleep when she got a response

**Victoria:** Neither am I

_Holy shit, she doesn't mean-_

**Victoria:** Please come down and let me in. I don't wanna wake up your parents.

_Fuck._

Any trace, or hope, of sleep was banished instantly.

Max was still in her PJs when she tiptoed down the stairs, quietly thankful for the thick carpet but still terrified that she might wake her mother in spite of it.

A quick peek through the peep hole confirmed Max's fears: Victoria was standing outside, looking around anxiously and wearing an outfit that was far better suited to a Vortex Club party than January in Seattle.

She pushed her way through the front door the moment Max unlocked it, and barged past Max into the living room, shivering and surveying her surroundings uneasily as Max closed the door behind her. She seemed about to say something, until Max gave her a librarian-grade shushing, and gestured to the open stairwell not ten feet away from them. The only place in the house where conversations didn't echo all the way through the house was in her father's basement den, and Max herded Victoria down the stairs a bit rougher than was really necessary.

"What the hell, Victoria?" Max whispered sharply as soon as the door closed. "I thought you were at Blackwell."

"I _was_. Not anymore." She didn't raise her voice as she followed Max down the stairs, but she didn't go out of her way to be quiet either.

"How!?" Max asked, although she already knew the answer.

"I own a car, Max. Chrissake."

"It's like a five hour drive! Were you even sober?"

"I just had two shots, I can drive on that, easy."

The centerpiece of the room was a ancient but cozy oversized couch that Ryan had salvaged from his office back in Oregon. If it did't meet boat shop standards anymore Max held little hope that it would meet Victoria's, but after a moment of staring Victoria held her tongue and sprawled herself across it.

"How do you even _know_ that?!" Max hissed. "Have you driven drunk before?"

"Never over the legal limit." Victoria snorted dismissively. "It was fine."

It most certainly wasn't, but next to everything else it might be the _least_ of Max's worries.

"That's... ugh. What the hell happened? I heard from Dana and she said you were leaving 'forever'." Max leaned over the back of the couch and lowered her voice. "I thought you might be suicidal again."

"What? No, definitely not." Victoria looked shocked that Max would even think it.

"Then why didn't you answer my texts? I was worried sick!"

"After I left I drove straight here; I didn't even see 'em 'til now. Besides, I wanted to tell you in person."

"That you outed us?"

"No, I mean that I'm quitting Blackwell. Never going back to that shit school again, not after what they did to us."

"Oh god, please tell me you didn't drop out of school because of me."

"Don't flatter yourself. They've had it coming for a while now. Nothing but bullshit classes and bullshit people."

Max chose to believe that Victoria was talking about people _other_ than the ones Max liked. "Won't your parents be mad?"

"They'll be furious at first, but I think I can make a case. I mean, Mrs. Cameron is completely fucking useless, and Blackwell's reputation is ruined anyways. If I'm lucky the first thing SAIC thinks when they see my application is 'that used to be a good school' and not 'I wonder if _this one_ got molested'."

"You can't just _leave_ like that."

"I thought you'd be _glad_ I was up here with you." Victoria patted the spot next to her on the couch, inviting Max to sit down.

Max didn't take the invitation. "What about when I go back to Blackwell?"

"When the hell are you planning on _that_?" Victoria retorted.

"In two weeks? When my suspension is over?"

Victoria looked down at her feet, which stuck out over the armrest. "Shit. Courtney said you got expelled, but I guess she was lying about that too. But I mean... I'd be shocked if you wanted to go back anyways."

"I don't love the idea, but that doesn't mean I can just quit in the middle of the school year. I'm not dropping out, Victoria. I can't!"

"Better than staying there and killing yourself halfway through."

"That's not gonna happen!"

"You're not getting better. I swear that place is making you worse; I could see it when I drove you back to campus."

"I can't leave. There's no way I'd get a good scholarship as a high school dropout, and I don't get to go to college without that. You know my family can't afford it."

"Fine, whatever." Victoria gave up on that point for now, and sank further into the couch. "Sorry if I scared you. I didn't even think about... you know."

"It's fine. I was just jumping to conclusions, 'cause I was afraid. I'm glad you're okay."

"I can't blame you though. I should've at least stopped to think for one fucking minute. This whole night's just been one stupid decision after the other."

"Speaking of which," Max said, "I'm not really happy with you announcing us to everyone like that."

"Why not? I thought we agreed we'd come out at the party. You were the one who wanted to in the first place."

"Yeah, but not like this. I would've rather been there next to you, and just been a couple and kissed and let people figure it out, not make a huge... _thing_ out of it. Plus now it'll look like your thing for me is just part of some big mental breakdown or something."

"Oh." Victoria deflated slightly.

"Yeah, 'oh'."

"Sorry." Victoria even looked slightly more sorry than she usually did when she said it.

"I think you should go home now."

"No, no way. My parents would completely flip their shit. I gotta get home at a normal time so it doesn't look like this was some crazy half-drunk 1AM impulse decision. Everything needs to be perfect."

"Where are you gonna go then?"

"I don't need to go anywhere. You got space, right?"

"What!? You can't just show up at two AM like this expecting a place to crash."

"What am I supposed to do? Get a hotel?"

"I'm sure you can afford one. I don't think my mom'd be happy to wake up to a total stranger sleeping on the couch."

"I'll just camp out in your room til the coast is clear."

"My dad isn't gonna be cool with us sharing a bed."

"Why not? It's totally normal for girls to share beds at our age, right?" Victoria smiled innocently, like she'd used that line before and gotten away with it.

"First of all, I came out to my parents over Thanksgiving, and I _told my dad_ when I started dating you. There's no way he wouldn't assume stuff. Plus I'm already in a ton of trouble for getting suspended. I don't even know if I'm allowed to go out, let alone have someone overnight. _Especially_ my girlfriend. I really can't screw up again, not now."

"It's not like you have to tell them."

Max threw her head back in frustration. Clearly Victoria had run out of bad ideas and was moving on to _even worse_ ones.

"My dad's taking tomorrow off; there's no way you could sneak out without him noticing. Even if you could I'm not going behind their backs. They really care about me."

"Fine. I just thought you'd be more supportive."

"It's not that I don't want to be with you. It's just a really bad idea right now. I'm sorry."

Victoria looked more hurt than Max felt was fair.

Max tried not to think about red flags number four and five from her father's list, and after a minute of consideration, she asked Victoria:

"Did you say you were in love with me, at the party?"

"I don't remember _exactly_ what I said. But I totally told them how amazing you were, and they were too stupid and petty to see it."

"People said you sounded like it, though. It's not like... I dunno, I just think we should take it slow."

Victoria smirked. "Hey, it's not like I came in a U-Haul."

"A what?"

"Jesus, do I have to explain all my lesbian jokes to you?"

Max resolved to look it up later and pushed it from her mind. "Seriously, Victoria. I'm not sure if I'm ready to go that far yet. We've only been 'dating' for like two weeks, and I've been mad at you for half that. Now's not the time to break out the L-word. And it's definitely not the time to drive five hours without texting me, show up at 2AM on my doorstep, and tell me to quit school so we can be together."

Victoria finally looked at least a little bit ashamed. "Right. I'm sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself, I guess. Just thought you'd like the gesture."

"You wanted to tell me in person and be all romantic, and I appreciate the thought, I guess? But you really didn't need to; you could've just called. And you definitely didn't need to slap Courtney."

"Maybe, but I really fucking wanted to. I had this whole thing planned out but she was talking shit about you, and lying, and she has this thing where she makes you wanna..." Victoria pounded her fist into her palm. "Ugh!"

Max chuckled. "I guess I can't argue with that."

"Besides, I had to stand up for you."

"You really didn't," Max sighed. "I don't care what she says about me, it's not worth you getting suspended over."

"They can't suspend me if I quit. Besides, I _did_ have to, in a way. This was all 'cause of me, and whatever shit she throws at you is bad for the both of us."

"How is what Courtney said _your_ fault?"

"It's not exactly, you just got caught up in this bullshit power play she was pulling against me."

That connected a few dots in Max's head, at least. "I heard you might not be in charge of the Vortex Club much longer."

Victoria scoffed. "I told you, I can't be in charge if I'm not going there anymore."

"No, I mean like, she was gonna take over."

"Yeah. Courtney's gonna be the next queen bitch of Blackwell. Yay-fucking-hooray. Glad I won't be around to see it."

"I'm not looking forward to it. I bet she'd be even worse than you were. No offense."

"None taken," Victoria said without missing a beat. "Honestly I'm not the only one who grew a conscience after the whole thing. Most of the club followed my lead, but that just gave the sociopaths free reign. Half the members've noped right the fuck out already. The Christmas party was supposed to be our big thing, and there was barely thirty people there, and less than a dozen at the party tonight. I mean, I know I've been a shitty president, but I'd be shocked if the club's still a thing by the end of the year, no matter who's in charge."

"Good riddance?" Max suggested hopefully.

"Yeah, pretty much." Victoria tilted her head back onto the armrest.

It was a gesture Max noticed immediately, and sighed. "Sorry, but I still can't let you sleep here."

"You're really gonna make your girlfriend get a hotel?"

"I don't want them to think you're a bad influence or something. If we try something like this, they might say I shouldn't see you anymore."

Victoria rolled her eyes. "Your parents are pretty hard-ass."

"No, they care about me, and they want to protect me. I don't always agree with them, but I'm sure they wouldn't approve of you showing up at 2AM and crashing here, and I think they'd be right."

"I guess," Victoria groaned as she got up from her recline.

"We can hang out as much as you want, when things settle down. Even tomorrow would be fine. Anything but a surprise visit in the middle of the night, really."

Max started walking up the stairs to the living room, and Victoria finally followed her. "I'm gonna be spending tomorrow buttering up my parents, but maybe Tuesday?"

"Sure, yeah." Max spoke in a whisper as she carefully opened the basement door. "I'll block off the whole day for you."

Victoria smiled. "It's a date!"

"Shhhh! Yeah." Max slid the deadbolt back and opened the front door quietly, letting the January night air spill through the doorway.

Victoria bent down for a goodbye kiss--something that hadn't even occurred to Max. She managed not to be thrown off balance, though, and leaned into it, enjoying the warmth of Victoria's lips and body against her for a few more moments, as the streetlights shone in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter (if not the contents) has ended up being pretty appropriate, since I'm attending a wedding this weekend. Come to think of it, the title of the last chapter might also be fitting. It'd be a hell of a coincidence if they read this, but best of luck to the brides! I hope things work out better than this ship!


	85. Surprise

Without Netflix, days seemed to stretch on forever.

This morning had provided a nice distraction at least: a deluge of text messages reacting to Victoria's announcement--some concerned and some congratulatory--had started well before sunrise, and hadn't slowed until around lunch.

It wasn't hard work, though; she sent a few 'Thanks' to the ones she recognized, and a few 'No, it's fine' to anyone who took issue with how Victoria had dragged Max out of the closet with her. None of the responses took much time, and at this point she was bored and tired of waiting for the next one to arrive.

Her parents had suggested she use some of her newly found free time to work on overdue assignments. Max whined about it plenty: She didn't have her books, it wouldn't actually count for anything, she was suspended, she needed time to recover. They hadn't pressed the issue, but two days in, sitting in her room with nothing to do, homework was starting, against all logic, to look slightly appealing.

At least, more appealing that the thought of making phone calls to local psychologists. She'd picked three from the list her dad had provided, because it felt like the lowest possible number she could get away with. Their phone numbers sat in a file on Max's desktop, wryly titled "DOOM.txt". She'd argued--successfully, even--that there was no use trying to call them on the weekend. But that excuse had run its course, and last night her parents had made it clear that she'd be expected to show some progress today. _Not like I have anything better to do._

 _At least they didn't ban music,_ she thought as the next track started. Her dad's old boombox, borrowed from the den, stood on her even older dresser. It was too ancient to even have a phone jack, so instead it was halfway through one of her mom's more-tolerable CDs. 311 was a bit cheerier than she was in the mood for, and the next song wasn't her favorite either. But changing it would involve getting off of her bed, and she didn't have the heart to shoo Toes off of her legs, especially when he just got comfortable.

She adjusted her laptop and searched for Mrs. Newton's email address to add to the To: field. She still wasn't sure how much groveling was appropriate; she'd already written and deleted a good half-dozen variations on the first two paragraphs and she still didn't like what she had.

`  
You have probably already heard that I'm suspended from campus for two weeks. I won't be attending class, but I am hoping that you'll give me a chance to keep up with my studies through email.`

`If it's not too much trouble, could you send me assignments to work on? I'll understand if you can't accept late assignments, but I'd like to be able to make some progress so that I'm not too far behind when I return.  
`

It felt hollow, given how far behind she'd gotten while she was still allowed to attend class, and she wondered if she should mention therapy. _As if the teachers haven't already heard about everything._

She cut and pasted a few sentences around, and added an intro that might garner a tad more sympathy.

`  
You have probably already heard that I'm suspended from campus for two weeks **so that I can go to therapy. I'm still dealing with the trauma from seeing my friend getting shot, and it's effected me more than I was willing to admit.**`

`**I won't be able to attend class, but I am hoping that you'll give me a chance to keep up with my studies through email.** If it's not too much trouble, could you send me assignments to work on? I'll understand if you can't accept late ~~assignments~~ **work, and I'm not asking for special treatment** , but I'd like to be able to make some progress so that I'm not too far behind when I return.  
`

_Is that too much?_ She went through the email yet again, making minor fixes as she read.

``  
You have probably already heard that I'm suspended from campus for two weeks so that I can go to therapy. I'm still dealing with the trauma from ~~seeing my friend getting shot~~ **the shooting** , and it's ~~e~~ **a** ffected-  


A knock on the door interrupted Max's editing. She wondered what her father wanted this time, and shouted "Come in!", trying not to sound too annoyed.

Instead of one disappointed parent her best friends in the entire world stampeded into the room: Kris, Ferdie, and Alicia, with Beth following behind like a little six foot two duckling. Toes scampered off and hid under the desk, and Max sat up straighter in her bed as they surrounded it.

"Hey!"

The whole visiting troupe lined up for hugs as they greeted her, starting with Kristen and Alicia, then Fernando, and even Beth shrugged and smiled and went along with it.

The visit was a welcome distraction from Max's to-do list, but...

"What are you guys doing here?"

Kristen gave Max another hug. "We heard you were back. Kinda figured something went bad."

Max wondered _how_ they heard it, but decided not to ask. "Yeah. I got suspended for beating a girl up."

"You?" Kristen asked, incredulously.

Ferdie chuckled. "Did she deserve it as much as Allie?"

"More." Max closed her laptop and slid it to the other side of the bed. "She actually said Chloe deserved to get shot, and I just kind of... snapped."

"Holy shit!" There wasn't much that would get Fernando angry, but this might just do it. "And they suspended _you_?"

Max nodded. "Two weeks. And I have to go to therapy."

"That's bullshit!" Ferdie said, sounding madder than Max ever remembered. "I mean, throwing a few punches doesn't mean you're nuts. Least not when they deserve it _that_ much."

Max sighed deeply and stared through her bedspread. "There's some stuff that I didn't tell you guys."

" _Oh._ " Kristen made the connection immediately and gave Max a significant glance.

Max knew what Kristen was thinking. _Boy is she in for a surprise._

"Are you okay with all of us here?"

Max could see Kris eyeing Beth and glancing at Max meaningfully. It took a while to understand exactly _what_ the meaning was. "Oh, uh, no... I mean yeah... it's fine, everyone can stay. I might as well get it out."

She draped her feet over the side of the bed and looked up at the circle of friends that formed around her.

"I... I saw the whole thing... when Chloe was shot. I was hiding in the back of the bathroom and I heard her arguing with him, and then he..." Max decided not to finish the sentence, she was close enough to crying as it was, and that was the last thing she needed to do right now.

Alicia was already giving Max a 'poor orphaned puppy' look. Ferdie looked horrified. Beth just looked intensely uncomfortable.

Kris looked shocked.

"I kept seeing it over and over in my head; I kept blaming myself for not stopping him. I couldn't deal with it, and I missed a lot of class and stuff. I was afraid to go to sleep 'cause of nightmares. And part of the reason I hit Courtney was 'cause she dropped a book on the ground, to remind me of the gunshot, and I... I should've started therapy right away, but-"

The four of them caused a minor traffic jam as they all tried to hug her at once. Kris and Alicia arrived first, and Ferdie leaned over and wrapped his huge arms around the three of them. Beth couldn't quite fit, but put a hand on Alicia's shoulder.

At first it was exactly what Max didn't want, but nothing eases sorrow like sharing it with others, and when they finally let her go it felt like they took a little bit of it with them.

"I never realized it was that bad," Ferdie said. "Man, we shoulda supported you better!"

"No, it's not your guys's fault. It didn't get that bad when I was back up here for Christmas, and even when it did I was trying to act okay."

"Why, though?" Ferdie asked.

Max thought hard on how to phrase her answer. "I wanted somewhere I could pretend things were normal, and to just keep on being friends, without _this_ getting in the way and making stuff all weird."

"Hey," Alicia said. "Friends support eachother when shit gets bad. Nothing weird about that."

Max shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Don't take it personally, I've been avoiding therapy too. Guess I should've figured that couldn't last forever."

"It'll be good for you though," Alicia said. "Right?"

"I guess. I'm just..." _terrified?_ "nervous about it? Like I have all the numbers to call, but I'm avoiding it so hard I'm working on _homework_ instead."

"Well there's no time like the present," Ferdie said. "We can't stay too long anyways. Set construction all afternoon."

"I can," Kristen volunteered. "I could hang out with you while you call, for moral support. If you want me to, I mean."

"I'd like that." Max saw an opening to change the subject, and smiled. "Hey, what play are you guys doing?"

Her friends launched into a description of their sets for A Little Night Music that almost made Max sad that she wouldn't be able to join them. More importantly, though, it got them off the topics Max didn't want to talk about, until they piled into Alicia's car and headed off towards the high school building, leaving Max and Kristen finally alone.

 

Kristen sank into the chair by the window as they heard the car pull away from the curb. "So, he drugged you _and_ you saw your friend murdered?" It figured that would be the first thing out of her mouth. Max's sense of relief disappeared instantly, and Kristen couldn't help but notice. "Sorry, still don't wanna talk about it?"

"Pretty much." More importantly, Max still didn't want to call, but her last excuses for not making the phonecall were heading off in Alicia's mom's station wagon.

"You're gonna have to though, for the therapist. Could practice on me."

"What else is there to say? I saw the whole thing, the gunshot, the... blood. And I was already dealing with memories of being drugged and strapped to a chair, for Mark Jefferson's sick pleasure."

"That really fucking sucks, I just... I can't even put it into words. I don't feel bad for a second about that bastard getting pulped."

Max lay back down across the bed. "Yeah, I wasn't _happy_ to hear about it, but if I was there, I don't know if I would have stopped it."

"Nothing wrong with that. I'm sure whoever you end up seeing'll say the same thing."

"If I even go."

"After everything you've told me, how could you _not_?"

"I'm scared!"

"Don't worry, I'm right here. You'll be fine."

Max sincerely doubted that, but couldn't muster up the guts to say as much. Instead she rolled onto her side and opened her laptop, clumsily making her way to her DOOM file and double clicking on it to reveal the phone numbers she'd be dialing.

"You ready?" Kris asked as she climbed up onto the bed and leaned against the pillows.

Max pulled her phone out of the pocket of her and stared at the blank screen, doing her best to breathe deeply and slow her pounding heart.

"Here, I'll even punch the number in."

Max tapped her thumb on the reader to unlock it, and halfheartedly handed the phone to Kris. She heard ten quiet tones, and reluctantly uprighted herself to sit alongside.

Kris held the phone out for Max, and Max did her best to hold her hands steady as she took it. The numbers stared back at her from the screen, and she couldn't bring herself to actually place the call.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Do I _look_ okay?" Max shot back, a bit more sharply than Kris deserved.

Kris winced momentarily, but regained her even keel quickly. "You're scared, but it's okay. You can push through this."

"I'm not just scared. I'm... freaking out. I'm terrified."

Kristen took the phone out of Max's shaky hands and moved closer. "You want me to hit send for you?"

"No!"

"Okay. We probably still have another hour before they'll be closing."

"I'm not gonna be ready in an hour!"

Kristen placed her hand gently over Max's. "I get it, opening up can be tough. But you have to, to get better."

"No, you don't get it. Remember I told you something supernatural happened?" She paused, and waited until Kris nodded before continuing. "I wasn't..." Max lowered her voice. "I wasn't messing around. If I really told a therapist everything that happened there's no way they'd believe me. They'd think I was, like, legit crazy and have me committed. Even you would."

Kris squeezed Max's hand tightly. " _Try me_."

Max should have expected that response, really. "Like... I haven't just been having nightmares. I've had... _visions_ of other timelines and... I used to be able to travel between them."

"What kind of other timelines?" Kristen looked less skeptical than Max had expected.

"Like, what would have happened if I'd done something different. What if I made different friends, what if I saved Chloe."

"You're sure that's not just like, really intense dreams?"

"About as sure as I am that _you're_ not a really intense dream. I learned stuff in the other timelines--stuff I couldn't have known in this one--and it turned out to be true."

"Okay."

"You see my problem, right? I got all sorts of PTSD and I can't even tell the whole story. They'd think I was schizophrenic or delusional or something, and I'd end up in some mental hospital forever."

"Can't you just tell them about the normal parts?"

 _Like the part where I keep wanting to kill myself?_ Max didn't say, because no matter how much it felt like a reason for avoiding therapy, there was no way Kris would agree. Besides, she already had a better excuse:

"They're all mixed up together. When I told you I was drugged and everything? I remember him leering over me and framing me in his camera, talking about how much he loved capturing my innocence, and the flashes going off every time he hit the shutter. I still remember it; I still get nightmares about it. It really happened to me... but it wasn't in this timeline. I changed the past and now it 'didn't'."

"Like, Back to the Future style?"

"No Delorean, but yeah, kinda like that."

"Woah, Max. That's heavy."

Max didn't appreciate the reference. "You don't believe me, do you. Don't humor me."

"No I do, it's just a lot to take in."

"Well you shouldn't. It's completely insane."

"Yeah, you've told me that like four times. But don't they say that like, really crazy people don't know they're insane?"

"That's just it though. I might realize how crazy the whole story sounds, but I _don't_ think I'm delusional. Sometimes I wondered, but I learned things in the visions and the other timelines, stuff there was no way I could have known, and it turned out to be true. And I'm not the only one stuff happened to. I've talked to friends and... I don't think I was hallucinating when they told me they had visions too."

"How did you do it though? You said it wasn't a Delorean..."

"It doesn't make any sense, I know it doesn't, but I could look at a photo I took and revisit that moment. And change things."

Kristen beamed. "It makes perfect sense. A photo captures a moment in time, not just as chemicals and pigments and stuff. There's a real power to them, and it totally makes sense that you'd figure out how to channel that."

Max wasn't sure why she'd been trying so hard to dissuade Kris from believing her story, but she finally gave up and accepted the phone, without even rolling her eyes.

"Here goes nothing I guess?" she said as she pushed the 'Send' button, then leaned against Kristen as it rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna say that the 2004 film 'The Butterfly Effect' doesn't exist in the LIS Universe, because honestly the mechanics are a bit too similar for comfort, and yet none of the characters ever reference it.


	86. Develop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found a nice little photography wordplay for the title, as a throwback to earlier chapters.

Max was expecting to spend a nice--even romantic--Tuesday evening with Victoria.

That's what they'd talked about beforehand, at least. Any night when Max wasn't stuck playing scrabble with her parents would be a nice change of pace, but Max's hopes were far higher than that. Victoria was going to pick her up, take her to a Hibachi place for dinner, then hit the art galleries in Queen Anne, and probably end the night with a kiss, or maybe even... Victoria had mentioned offhand that her condo was right by the galleries, and they could stop by there too. She didn't say what they'd _do_ there, but Max could guess, and each guess made her heart flutter a little bit.

From the moment Victoria stormed in the front door, Max could tell that it wasn't going to be like she pictured. Never mind a kiss, from the expression on Victoria's face Max was lucky she hadn't been impaled by a stiletto as Victoria threw herself onto the nearest armchair and kicked her heels halfway across the room.

Max shot Victoria an uneasy glance as she moved the heels a few feet to their proper place by the door. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong. I did the whole song and dance for my parents, look at how I'm a perfect daughter, and by the way Blackwell is worthless and I'm leaving, and they didn't buy it." She glared out the window, as if her parents were standing outside it.

Max approached Victoria slowly, still careful to maintain a safe distance. "Why not?"

"Fuck if I know. I tried every fucking thing I could think of and they didn't even _get_ it. They just said 'suck it up, not like you got molested' and what was I supposed to say to that?"

"Does that mean you have to go back then?" Max spoke more quietly than was strictly necessary, hoping that Victoria would get the hint that her parents were just a single flight of stairs away.

"Fuck no. I'm staying here, with you."

Max pictured Victoria living on the Caulfield couch, and a sense of panic arose in her. "No, you can't! I told you that."

"I don't mean _here_ here, just, like, in Seattle."

"Oh." Max's pulse slowed, but not as quickly as it had risen. She took a seat in the armchair next to Victoria's. "Won't they be pissed?"

"They can just suck ass if they think they can control me like that. I'll just hang out here, then after a month or so, once my grades are good and nuked and I _can't_ go back, they'll come around; it'll be the only way for them to save face. Not gonna be a fun month, but I got enough to survive on in the meantime. And I got a few bargaining chips left."

From the way Victoria was looking at her, Max had an uneasy feeling that _she_ was one of those chips.

"What if they just get madder that you skipped out?"

"It's not skipping if you're already suspended. With my luck Courtney went crying right to the principal, just like she did with you."

"You didn't hear?" Max grinned in spite of the conversation; it wasn't often that she got to deliver such good news. "I was texting Dana this morning; Courtney's punishment is that she's banned from all school activities-- _including the Vortex Club_ \--for the whole year. So if she tells on you..."

Victoria completed the thought: "...she'd have to admit she was at the party!" She gave Max her first halfhearted smile of the night. "That's awesome. Even if it does screw up my big plan."

"Not only that, but I bet you don't have to worry about her taking over the Vortex Club anymore."

"I could care less about the fucking Vortex Club. Even if I _do_ end up stuck at Blackwell I don't want any part of it."

"I wonder who's gonna be president now," Max said. "Maybe Hayden?"

"I wasn't kidding when I said I don't care. I'd rather stay here with you."

"I told you, I'm not gonna be up here forever. I already got three therapists booked for the next two days, and if that goes okay in a week and a half I'll be going back to Blackwell. Then you'd be stuck here without me."

"Can you promise me that? That you'll come back?"

"Of course, I-" Max caught herself. "Actually, I don't know... The therapist might want more time before she says I can go, or she might just throw me in a padded cell forever if I say something I shouldn't. And you were right that I don't like being there. The whole place is just this soul-sucking pit."

Max reached for Victoria's hand. "But I'm gonna try. I _do_ want us to be together. I really care about you. I- I..."

Victoria finally gave Max a warm smile. "I know. I love you too."

Max let go of Victoria's hand, and recoiled slightly at the word. "That's... that's not what I was gonna say."

"You do though. Right?" Victoria's voice gained a slight edge of panic at the last word.

As much as Max didn't want to hurt Victoria, she wanted to go _there_ even less. "I- I told you, I'm not there yet."

"No, I know you can feel that way. I saw it!"

"What do you mean, you s-" Mid-sentence, Max realized exactly what Victoria meant by 'saw'.

"It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving." Victoria finally lowered her voice enough that Max's parents probably wouldn't overhear. "I saw _us_."

 _Duh. "Did you have any visions over Thanksgiving break?"_ Max kicked herself for not seeing through such a transparent ploy until now.

"Victoria, _What did you see_?"

"You were in my bedroom. Not at Blackwell, up here, and we were in the bed and you were... I mean you had this black box on your ankle like a felon but other than that you were totally naked. And I was too. I slapped your ass and we were laughing and kissing and joking around and... We were in love. I could feel how strongly she felt that, like I _was_ her, and I wanted it. You can't imagine how much I wanted it to be true. I still don't know what reality that was, what changed, but it was perfect. And I knew it was possible."

After a few seconds Max realized how wide open her mouth was. She shut it quickly as her mind raced for something to say.

"It was cause I saved William." It wasn't the most insightful or poetic response, but it was all Max could come up with.

Victoria looked at max quizzically.

"Mr. Price, I mean, five years ago. It was the timeline where Chloe was paralyzed. I told you I got arrested for... for euthanizing her."

"Oh, right." Victoria rested her head in her palm. "Shit."

"Victoria... I saw enough of that timeline to know that I'm not the same person as that Max. Not exactly. The last five years of her life were totally different. She was a bit louder, more confident... more like you, I guess. The other you was probably pretty different too. I'm not saying it'll never happen, but... I can't promise you anything."

"Don't you want that though?"

"Sort of? I mean it sounds amazing, I just..." Max's voice trailed off as she realized she wasn't entirely sure what she 'just', or at least wasn't ready to say it out loud.

"What's stopping us then? Can't we just, like, tear off our clothes and... be like that?"

"My parents are right upstairs! Besides, I can't just _decide_ to fall in love with you, any more than you can decide to stop hating yourself. You're really sweet when you want to be, and thoughtful; I care about you and I really like being with you, but love just happens; you can't force it. Maybe it will, maybe I _hope_ it will, but just because I've forgiven you for everything doesn't mean I can forget it. And I still can't forget... you know..."

"Chloe." Victoria finished for her bitterly.

"Yeah." There was a good reason Max hadn't wanted to say the name. She lowered her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the expression on Victoria's face. "I'm sorry, just... give it time. Let things... develop."

"That's what I've been doing this whole time; trying to let it happen naturally. Then I heard you were kicked out and I started getting scared maybe it wouldn't."

"I can't promise you anything. But I still wanna try. Okay?"

"Okay." Victoria hid her disappointment, but not well enough.

Max looked back up at Victoria finally. "Thank you for telling me. And I'm sorry. I wish things were different. But you still need to go back to Blackwell."

"I know," Victoria said resignedly. "Can I at least come up and visit this weekend?"

"Yeah, of course. Every weekend, if you want."

"I'll take you up on that. I need something to keep me sane."

"What about tonight?" Max asked after a long pause and a gurgle in her stomach. "Are we still going out to dinner? Or do you have to leave now?"

Victoria sighed, and deflated slightly. "I don't know. I guess..." She pulled out her phone and glanced at the time on the screen. "I guess I could leave at eight and still be fine. So we have a few hours. Not long enough to hit the art scene but we could still do hibachi, if we hurry."

Max thought for a moment. "Maybe. I wanna do _something_ together, but it'd take you a few hours just to find parking this time of night. Besides, a night out sounds like a bit much. Maybe something a bit more low-key?"

"I get that. It's been, like, forever since we had quiet time together. You wanna head up to your room and watch a movie or something?"

"I would, but my parents changed the Netflix password. Apparently watching six hours a day is 'unhealthy'." Max flashed Victoria a sideways smile.

"Six hours? _Every day?_ " Victoria almost looked impressed. "That's like... shit, that's a lot. No wonder you never came out of your dorm room."

"It certainly wasn't 'cause I was working on homework," Max joked.

"I figured you were busy enjoying that photo I left you."

Max could feel her face turning a lovely shade of red as she realized which photo, and what Victoria meant by 'enjoying'. "No!"

Victoria smirked. "What, am I not hot enough for you?"

"It's... it's not that. I just... haven't been in the mood for ages."

Victoria's smile disappeared. "Since October?"

Max breathed in through her teeth and shrugged just a little.

"Yeah, same, pretty much. I talk big, but everything's been off lately, what with Jefferson raping my dreams and shit."

That exact phrasing left a lump in Max's chest. "I just started having nightmares again the other night. For a while I was too tired to dream at all, but, you know. No more Netflix now."

"Right. Well..." Victoria exhaled deeply. "I have pretty much everything on my phone, even, like, HBO, if you still want to watch something. Or there's a bunch of movies back at my place." Victoria paused, then grimaced. "Actually no, not that. Least not right now."

"Parents?"

"Yeah. Not in the mood to sit there and take their nasty looks any more tonight. Besides, they think I'm already driving back."

"That's fine. I'm sure we can figure out something here." By 'we' Max meant 'Victoria', because she was running out of ideas.

Fortunately after a second Victoria looked at the door to the basement stairs. "I saw a ton of movies down in your TV room. Wanna catch one of those?"

"Sure." There wasn't a single one of them Max hadn't already seen several times over, but that wasn't a bad thing in this case. "What about food?", she asked.

Victoria shrugged. "Does takeout sound good? There's a decent kabob place down in Queen Anne, I bet I could get them to deliver here."

"Sure." Max wasn't sure if she even cared _what_ she ate as long as it came quickly.

* * *

One quick phonecall later they were downstairs. Victoria was on her knees by the TV, looking through the rows of old DVDs, and Max was sitting on the couch, trying not to enjoy the view too much. Victoria had chosen an unusually short gray skirt with white tights underneath, and matching gray boots that came up to just above the knee.

"Anything you're in the mood for right now? Romance? Action? Rise and Fall of the Third Reich?"

Max smiled. "Probably not that. You can pick whatever movie you like, though; they're all good. Just nothing with time travel in it, okay?"

Victoria chuckled briefly, then nodded. "Sore subject, got it."

A minute later: "How about this?"

Max was more surprised than she should've been that the first thing Victoria pulled out was a Miyazaki.

"I shoulda figured you'd manage to find the one Anime DVD in the entire house."

Victoria looked to Max, half-surprised. "I thought hipsters were supposed to like anime."

"Well yeah, but I mostly just stream it. All the stuff here is theirs, or like, birthday presents from before streaming was a thing."

"Well they're not totally hopeless. I saw some Kubrick in there too, and a bit of Tarantino."

"That's my mom. Dad just goes for Discovery and History channel stuff, from back before they were all pawn stars and ice road truckers. Now it's mostly PBS."

"Well _she_ has decent taste at least."

Max shot a glare in Victoria's direction.

"Whatever," Victoria said dismissively. "You up for this?"

Max was always up for Kiki's Delivery Service. She nodded and stretched out comfortably on the couch. Victoria picked the far opposite side, which Max thought was a good sign until Victoria leaned the rest of the way over and plopped her feet right in Max's lap.

It was a good thing Max had seen the movie before, because she had no spare attention for it. She spent the first half of it thinking about the stockinged feet and rows of toes in front of her, and whether she should touch them.

Run her hands over them.

Lick them.

 _Oh god not that_. She shook her head to try and clear the thought from it, and went back to staring at the movie, still not taking in a word of it.

 _I could still touch them though. Or even just... put my hand on her leg. Would that be leading her on?_ Max was sure she'd already be doing something if not for that L-word, which hung in the back of her mind.

_Do I love her?_

The word didn't quite fit. Like the purple jacket in the thrift store: pretty in theory, but maybe not right for Max.

_How am I even supposed to react, after that whole thing?_

Max's first instinct was to pull back and take things slow. But it certainly wasn't her _only_ instinct. Her heart skipped a beat as Victoria flexed her toes slightly. But when Max glanced to her right, Victoria was still watching the movie, without even the big knowing grin that Max expected.

She clearly had no idea what she was doing to Max. _Or maybe she's just amazingly good at playing it cool?_

 _Maybe_ I _need to make the first move. But do I_ want _to?_

Victoria shifted slightly on the couch, seemingly oblivious to the effect her feet were having on Max's psyche.

_And if I made the first move, what's the second one? And do I want that?_

Max glanced behind her to the stairs, and just from the way the stairwell was in shadow she could tell the door to the living room was closed.

_Or maybe the feet was the first move and... fuck, is she planning to... fool around or something?_

Max didn't have much chance to ponder that before the doorbell rang, and Victoria paused the movie to fetch a steaming bag of afghan food from the front door.

It still felt a little uncomfortable, Victoria paying for it all. Max went to get plates and silverware, so she could at least contribute _something_ , and followed her down the stairs.

Max left the door to the stairs open, hoping Victoria wouldn't notice, but as soon as she set the cutlery down on the coffee table she heard an exaggerated sigh from next to her.

"Is something wrong?" Max asked, already half-knowing the answer.

"Can't you close the door? Give us a bit of privacy?"

"I probably shouldn't."

"Is that another one of your parents rules?" Victoria scoffed.

"Not exactly, I just... don't want them to assume anything."

It wasn't the only reason. After the conversation they'd just had, and the thoughts that had been going through her head, lying on a couch next to Victoria with the door closed didn't sound like a good idea. Her parents were more of an excuse really.

"Fuck," Victoria said, and put down the box of saffron rice. "I made things weird, didn't I. With the whole 'I love you' thing."

"Maybe a little. It got me thinking, what are we? Like, I'm happy with you but not... you know. And I was gonna touch your feet a little but then I realized, what if I'm sending the wrong signals? Or just leading you on?"

"Figures." Victoria sat back on the couch and folded her arms. "No good deed goes unpunished."

Max took a deep breath. "Sorry. I really appreciate that you were honest with me, and I'm sure it'll make things better in the long-run. I just need a bit to figure out how I feel first."

"Sure." Victoria unfolded her arms and rested them on her knees. "I'll lay off the touch-feely shit, okay?"

"Maybe that's best. At least for tonight. Sorry."

"No I get it," Victoria grumbled. "It's a lot to process, and then right away I'm all up in your face getting comfy and you're like, 'wait, what the hell?'"

"Yeah, kind of. Sorry."

"Stop fuckin' apologizing. I shoulda figured you'd need some space after that and here I am practically sitting in your lap."

Max pictured Victoria actually sitting in her lap, and could feel her face turning red even as she tried to pretend she wasn't thinking about it.

"Y-Yeah. Movie?" Anything was better than continuing this conversation.

The second half of the movie hardly registered in Max's mind any more than the first. Now that Victoria's feet were safely on the floor Max found herself wondering:

_Was I too mean?_

Victoria was still focused on the movie, taking the occasional bite from her falafel wrap, but now Max couldn't help but feel disappointment radiating off of her.

 _Maybe I should've just said I love her too._ Max could imagine them beaming at eachother as they said the words before being whisked off to Hibachi. But even in that little fantasy Max's smile didn't quite feel genuine.

 _Maybe I would've grown into it?_ she told herself, without too much confidence.

In fact, right after pushing Victoria away, the part of Max that wanted Victoria closer decided to bubble right up to the surface.

_How do I know I don't love her?_

Max rested her hands in her lap and tried to focus on the movie they were supposedly watching together.

_It doesn't feel like it did with Chloe, but I still care about her, and I still keep wanting to... do stuff with her. Isn't that all you need?_

She found herself glancing at Victoria's feet again, almost missing having them on her lap.

_Ugh, fuck me._

Soon enough the movie was over, and with it their half-assed, abortive attempt at a date. Victoria would be arriving at Blackwell late indeed, even if she broke every speed limit on the way, and so Max found herself gathering the mostly-empty styrofoam containers and walking her date back to the door. They filled the silence with the smallest of small talk, with the weather, with news, with anything but the elephant in front of them.

Victoria gave Max one more really nice view as she leaned over to put her heels back on, and then they were standing close together in the doorway. Very close together, given how small the doorway was.

"I'm sorry you have to go back," Max finally said.

"I am too. But I should be back here on Saturday, and maybe you'll be back in school the week after?"

"Hopefully."

Now, standing in the doorway with Victoria about to leave, was the right moment. Max realized it almost too late, but luckily Victoria was only on the first step down when Max said "Wait!" and reached for her shoulder.

It'd be almost cruel to let Victoria pour her heart out like, then make her go all the way back to Arcadia Bay without a goodbye kiss. Max owed her that, certainly. If it had just been that sense of debt a peck on the check would have sufficed, but there was still a part of Max that wanted Victoria, wanted to feel her, _wanted_ to wake up next to her on a Saturday morning.

It took some effort to ignore the lingering doubts, but between the stairs and the heels Victoria's lips were at the perfect height, and as she turned around Max planted the sweetest, gentlest kiss she could manage, right on them. She even lingered there a few seconds, with her arms around Victoria, for good measure.

Then Victoria was walking back to her car, and Max was standing on the stoop, watching. She wasn't sure _why_ the question popped into her head just then, but just before Victoria got to the main sidewalk Max called out to her:

"Hey! What was the joke you made the other night? The one about the U-haul?"

Victoria turned around and looked up and down the darkened street to see if there was anyone else within earshot. When she finally answered it was so quiet Max could barely catch it, and came with only a little eye contact.

"You know the whole... stereotype about lesbians moving in right away?"

Max didn't really, but she nodded hesitantly.

"It's the usual joke about that; like, 'What does a lesbian bring to the second date?'"

"A U-haul?" Max ventured, then smiled as she got the joke.

"Yeah, seriously." Victoria smiled at Max one last time before she got into her car. "See you around, Caulfield."

Then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Like the purple jacket in the thrift store." You know, that one from 55 chapters ago?
> 
> I included the U-haul joke in this work with caution, since it pokes fun at a marginalized group that I'm not a member of. I concluded that it was fine, partly because it doesn't have a history of being used hatefully and partly because Victoria is the kind of acerbic and self-deprecating character who would absolutely reference it. I'm not sure she's being fair on herself, since what she experienced wasn't a date so much as a supernatural link to an alternate version of herself that already had intense feelings for Max. A bit of transferral might be expected.
> 
> I'm currently fostering a litter of four kittens, about four weeks old, so spare time is a little scarce. I have a buffer that should carry me through until they're adopted out, but it's possible I might skip a week sometime in the next month or so; if so I'll announce it in the comments the week before.


	87. Therapy

It was a bit of a stretch to use the word 'lobby' to describe the waiting room of Coleen Hardwick, M.D. Max had seen bigger _closets_ , at least in Seattle. She could almost touch both walls with her elbows, and lying down on the floor would be possible, but only just.

_Good thing I'm not here for claustrophobia._

The room was spartan as well, with only a plastic plant, the DMV-grade lobby chair that Max was sitting in, and a white noise machine plugged into the only outlet, looking like a little plastic UFO. _So you can't hear through the door. That's smart._

Plus it gave Max _something_ to focus on while she waited for the door to open and admit her. There were no magazines, no medical brochures or pamphlets on medical conditions, not even any ads for prescription drugs to read the side effects of. She wished again for a window, and wondered what the Seattle skyline looked like from this building. _I bet it's pretty from twelve floors up. Guess I'll never know._ In the elevator she'd resolved to keep her cell phone in her pocket the whole time, but she'd arrived twenty minutes early, and that resolve was weakening by the second, along with her nerves.

She was already regretting scheduling the first appointment in the middle of a school day, when her friends were unavailable. _Sure, they can support me while I make the appointment, but when I actually go?_ She would even have taken Beth, if it came to that, but Max sat in the lobby alone. There would hardly have been room for a second person anyways.

She went over her story one last time to try and distract herself. _We were trying to find Rachel Amber together, and Chloe finally decided to confront Nathan. She told me to stay in the back of the bathroom and not come out, no matter what. I shouldn't have listened to her._ That part wasn't too hard.

The dark room was trickier. Even though she had that part of the story worked out well enough, she hardly felt prepared to tell it, and not just because of the lies. _Definitely not the first visit_. But there was no avoiding it forever. _It'd make a good tearful revelation a few sessions in_ , Max figured; _Just drop a few hints and let her feel good about figuring it out._ As much as she hated the idea of playing a part for her own therapist she didn't see any better way to do it.

She pulled her phone out to check the time. _14 minutes left?_ , she thought and decided not to put it back.

The Netflix password was still changed, and Reddit wasn't Max's first choice of diversion, but it held her attention and staved off the impending panic attack until the door opened, and a short thirty-something man with a thin beard and kind eyes walked out of it. For a moment Max wondered if she'd gotten the wrong place, but the man just smiled at Max and headed to the exit, covering the lobby in a single stride and leaving nothing in between Max and her new therapist.

Max finally fixed her gaze on her new doctor, a tall, thin, and pale woman with black hair and a sweater that that reminded Max of Mrs. Chase, but cheaper.

She reached forward to shake Max's hand. "Hello, Maxine."

Max put her hand out hesitantly to meet it. "Just Max."

_Strike one._

"Of course. You can call me Coleen."

"Okay." The woman was friendly and animated, but for some reason Max had trouble keeping eye contact for long. Instead her eyes wandered about the room.

Clearly, the lobby was so small because Mrs. Hartwick wanted to use all of that space for the office itself. Not that it was enormous, perhaps no bigger than a one-car garage, but by downtown Seattle standards it might as well have been a penthouse.

The furniture was nicer than your average office--if a touch modern for Max's taste--and kept so obsessively neat Max felt like she'd stumbled into a real estate listing. Not only was nothing out of place, it hardly seemed like the place was used at all, aside from a dark rut that ran across the white carpet from the entrance to the couch, the only hint at all those who had been here before.

The view from the windows wasn't much, but she could see plenty of gray sky at least.

"Max?" Dr. Hartwick said as she thumbed through the files in her desk. "No need to be nervous."

It wasn't entirely nerves, at least not this time. Max had been so preoccupied with the room she hadn't even remembered she was supposed to follow the therapist into it.

The woman went back to her papers, glancing back up at Max only long enough to say, "Go ahead and sit down, I'll just be a second."

The couch cushions had just the right amount of give, but as Max sat down she found the back wasn't tall enough, and was too far back to be of much use to someone with her short legs.

_Whatever. I'm not here to enjoy the furniture._

Looking around the room a bit more, she had no trouble remembering what she _was_ here for. There were an awful lot of fancy-looking certificates on the walls, ones with names she recognized like 'Stanford' and 'APA'. Max noticed that even before the glass desk and rows of books on the shelves, ones with titles like "An Unquiet Mind" or "The Psychopath Test".

The therapist hadn't been lying about just taking a second; Max was barely settled in before Coleen sat in the office chair across from her and adjusted her neckerchief.

"So, how does this work?" Max asked.

"Well, why don't you start by telling me about yourself."

"Well..." Max started, "back in October I saw my friend get shot." After the words left her lips she wondered if she should have acted more uncomfortable, but Coleen didn't seem phased.

"I see. That must have been very difficult for you."

"Yeah." _No shit._

"Do you want to talk about it?"

_No_. "That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"

Dr. Hartwick seemed to sense Max's reluctance at least a little. "We don't have to get into it quite yet. How about you start by telling me a little more about Maxine Caulfield."

"Well, first of all it's Max. Never Maxine." _Strike two_.

"Of course. Why is that though?"

"I dunno. I guess it's just what my parents always called me, unless I was in trouble or something, and it kinda stuck. Now 'Maxine' just sounds wrong."

Dr. Hartwick smiled gently. "I see. What sort of things are you interested in, Max?"

"Ummm... photography? And music I guess? And I have friends and stuff I like to hang out with."

"What kind of music do you listen to?"

"Umm... Alt-J? And like, other indie stuff? Syd Matters and a bit of Jose Gonzales I guess..."

Dr. Hartwick gave Max plenty of time to elaborate, but it just made the silence more and more uncomfortable, until she finally moved on.

"Okay. Well, I'm going to ask you a few questions about how you're doing, so I can get a feel of how I can help you. You said you saw a friend of yours shot. How long ago was this?"

"In October. So I guess... four months?"

"Okay. For these questions, when I say 'this month' I want you to focus on the past thirty days. Have you had nightmares about the incident this month?"

"I think so. I don't remember most of them now."

"I see." Coleen jotted something down in her notebook. "Have you felt as if you were reliving the event?"

"Yeah..." Max trailed off, and waited for Dr. Hartwick to ask for more detail.

Instead she just said "Okay", and more words went into the notebook.

"Wait, I think that was more than a month ago." Max tried to read her therapist's expression, but the woman's face remained unnervingly impassive.

"Do you find yourself avoiding things that remind you of it?"

"Yes." The questions were starting to sound awfully familiar. _Yes, I have PTSD. Can I go home now?_

"Do you feel disconnected from other people?"

"A bit." Max could have said more, but volunteering information didn't feel like a good idea right now.

"Have you felt irritable, or had angry outbursts?"

"Just one." _And the one where I flipped out at Brooke,_ Max thought. _And maybe the one in the stairwell counts?_ She didn't change her answer.

"Have you had thoughts about suicide, or self harm?"

"No." That was a can of worms Max was not planning to go near, let alone open in front of a woman who so far hardly seemed any better at therapy than a good Google search.

The woman didn't even notice the lie, she just put a few more words into her notebook, then asked another question:

"Are you familiar with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

"Yeah, it's what you're about to diagnose me with. You didn't really need to ask all the screening questions for it; I could've just told you and saved us some time."

"I see." If Dr. Hartwick felt insulted she didn't show any sign of it, or any sign of anything as her pen scribbled more notes into the book.

_Was that too snarky?_

"That kind of hostility can also be a symptom of it. I understand that but I'd rather you keep it to a minimum while you're here, and remember that I'm trying to help you."

"Yeah," Max said, sounding only as guilty as she needed to. _Mrs. Roth would've been nicer about it._

"You're correct though. Everything you've told me supports a diagnosis of PTSD, although it may take a few sessions to make it formal. I assume you're looking for weekly visits?"

"Actually, could we speed it up a bit? I got a lot of shit to get through and not all that much time."

"'Not much time'?" Coleen repeated. "What do you mean by that?"

"The principal gave me two weeks to go home and get therapy."

"Gave you?" Her voice was slightly incredulous.

"That's what he said, go home and get therapy."

"Was there a reason he didn't think you could attend therapy while still in class?"

"'cause I had a flashback in the middle of the hallway. And I..." Max cringed slightly. "I punched a girl."

The woman nodded just a touch, and wrote a few words in her little notebook; Max couldn't tell what they were, but it made her stomach sink anyways. "Why did you do that?" Dr. Hartwick finally asked.

"She dropped a book on the floor to freak me out, and then she kept talking about the murder. I think she was doing it on purpose, trying to trigger me. And then she said that Chloe deserved to be killed, and I just..."

"Did you feel like you weren't in control of yourself then?"

"I dunno, I just... I was so mad. I _wanted_ to hurt her. I still think she deserved it, kind of. I know I shouldn't have but... she was being so awful."

More notes written in the little notebook.

"Have you had a lot of outbursts like that?"

Max shook her head. "Just the one." She thought about the math textbook again, and again decided not to mention it.

"Have you seen a therapist about this before now?"

"Uh, no. Not really. There were a few friends I talked to, and a group thing for some of the other people at Blackwell who were affected by everything. But that's about it."

"How about your parents?"

"No. I mean, they knew what happened to me, mostly, and they were supportive and stuff, but we never really sat down and, you know, just talked."

"What's your relationship with your parents like?"

The question reminded Max of every outdated psychoanalysis stereotype ever, and she pictured herself sitting on a chaise lounge while answering, but she managed to keep a straight face anyways.

"My dad was always the really sweet one; tight hugs and riding on his shoulders and everything. Mom's a bit more steady, composed. But they both love me a lot. I know that."

"I see..."

For a few seconds Max wondered if that 'I see' was sarcastic or not, but with Dr. Hardwick there was no knowing; she just scribbled more into her notes and continued on to the next question.

"How about your friends. How did they react?"

The rest of the session was similarly useless. Dr. Hartwick asked her a seemingly-endless stream of questions, and hid whatever she thought of Max's answers behind a friendly-looking mask and that stupid spiral-bound notebook. After a while of it being merely unhelpful, it gradually transitioned to being unnerving.

It was a relief, then, when a quick beep announced the end of their session, and Dr. Hartwick stood and gave Max a charming smile as she concluded the session. She was probably trying to look sweet and disarming, but it didn't quite work--if anything, it put Max off even more.

_Maybe Dr. Haswell will be better?_

"I almost forgot," Dr. Hartwick said as she got up from her chair. "Do you have any questions for me, about therapy, insurance, anything like that?"

As it happened, there _was_ one question Max had been planning to ask, and it wasn't an easy one. She wasn't sure if she should bother now, but it couldn't hurt. Not like it would matter anyways.

"What do you think of... supernatural experiences?"

The psychiatrist's eyes narrowed and she scrutinized Max closely, perhaps looking for the _why_ behind such a question. When she finally answered it was measured, careful.

"I think the mind is a fascinating thing, able to conjure up all sorts of incredible thoughts and ideas, even ones that don't quite have an explanation in the real world. A few of my clients are religious, and that can and does inform my therapy and my approach, but if someone came to me thinking they were the second coming of Jesus I'd diagnose and treat that as I would any other psychiatric issue. Is there a particular _reason_ you're asking?"

"Not really, just something I was wondering."

_Strike three._

The smile didn't waver from Coleen's face as she opened the door for Max. "I assume you'll be here the same time next week?"

"Maybe? Wednesdays aren't the best for me. I call you once I know for sure."

Max didn't even bother trying to sound convincing, and left hoping that the second therapist on her list might work out better.

* * *

"I'm here to see Dr. Jordan Haswell?"

When Max thought of the name 'Jordan' the first thing that came to mind was some implausibly attractive mortician who talked to corpses on TV. She didn't even remember the show's title; she'd only caught half of the pilot at a friend's house once. By the time she realized Jordan could also be a man's name, she was already standing in line at the reception desk of a low-rise office center in the north half of Green Lake, and it was far too late to back out.

The receptionist gave Max the same smile she gave every other customer. "He'll be with you shortly."

She felt her throat tighten further, then--with some effort--took a deep breath.

_It'll be fine. Men can be good therapists too, right?_ She wasn't entirely persuaded.

There was only one seat left in the waiting room, between between a tall white man in a business suit and a disheveled mother feeding a newborn. Max wasn't going to take it at first, but no matter where she stood she found herself in the way of the line, or the hallway towards the offices. She made herself as small as she could and wedged herself into the spot. The opposite wall had a few paintings that were just as bland as any one might see in a waiting room, but Max focused on them intently, because anything was better than interacting with the people next to her.

"Maxine?" The man's voice called for Max from a hallway to her left, and she followed nervously to his office.

Dr. Jordan Haswell wore a button-down shirt and a bowtie, and a broad smile. He looked perfectly harmless, and that should've set her mind at ease, but instead Max tensed up even more.

She must have been doing a poor job hiding her nerves, because the first thing he said to her as he led her in was not 'hello' or 'welcome' but "No need to be scared. I don't bite."

Max shot him a pained smile as she closed the door behind herself.

"I'm Dr. Haswell, but you can call me Jordan if you prefer." He extended a friendly hand, and Max focused on it as they shook hands quickly.

"Okay. Jordan." Max glanced up at his face. "I'm Max."

Dr. Haswell sat himself down on a small rolling stool, and gestured at the love seat across from him, for Max to do the same. "It's nice to meet you, Max. What brings you here?"

His shoes were a bit overdue for a shining, but his socks had an argyle pattern that held Max's attention as she answered.

"I... witnessed a shooting. A friend of mine died, and... and it really messed me up."

"That's awful. When was it?"

"F-Four months ago."

Max could hardly have said what color the walls were painted, but she already knew every thread in the oriental run under their feet--some on a first-name basis.

He leaned forward slightly in his office chair. "I hope you don't mind me saying, you seem pretty nervous. Do you not feel safe here?"

Max slowly slid herself to the back of the couch. "It's fine, I just thought you were... you know."

"You were expecting me to be a woman?"

"No. I mean, I kinda was, but it's not that, it's just..."

She glanced up at his face one last time. It was the glasses that were bothering her. Heavy black square frames with white sides, resting on a face that had a vaguely familiar shape. It didn't even matter that he didn't have the same beard, or the same haircut; once she saw it there was no salvaging the session.

"No, I'm sorry... this isn't gonna work," Max said as she got up from the seat and fled the room, heading for the first exit sign she saw at the far end of the hall.

"What's the trouble? Did I do something wrong?" Dr. Haswell said as he poked his head out the office doorway.

Max paused at the fire door, and turned towards him, but didn't make eye contact.

"You look like _him_."

The crash bar made a clunking sound as Max opened it, and she hurried down the staircase to the exit. She sighed in relief when she heard the door slam closed, and stay closed behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That could've gone better.


	88. Glass

There were three numbers on Max's list, but they only resulted in two appointments; Dr. Weigel of Pioneer Square was "not taking new patients at this time".

That had left Max stressing about having to go back through the list her dad printed, until Kristen texted her a phone number.

"That's June. She's a friend of my mom's, but she's licensed and everything. Plus she's pretty awesome. You should totally give her a shot."

That was how Max found herself in the back room of a slightly-run-down Craftsman-ish house on the south end of Beacon Hill, not holding out much hope for her third attempt, and wondering if her insurance even covered this one.

 _I guess I shouldn't be surprised this woman is friends with Mrs. Nowaki_ , Max thought as she sat down on a couch piled with mismatched pillows and a rag quilt. _They've sure been trading decorating tips..._ Max leaned against a giant knit doily draped over the couch back, and wondered where you could even _buy_ yarn that sparkled like that.

Dr. June Taylor Ph.D. sat down in an armchair that might have been older than Max, and was certainly more well-worn. It contrasted oddly with the doctor herself, a young, spy little blonde that Max would have placed in the same grade as herself, if not for the wedding ring on her finger and the doctorate on the wall above.

Max got the pleasantries out of the way mechanically, talking without much thought about how she hadn't had too much trouble getting there, and wasn't the weather nice yesterday? Then Dr. Taylor got right down to business.

"So, tell me about yourself." She said it brightly, as if she expected a happy story rather than...

"I'm Max Caulfield, and, uh, I'm here 'cause my best friend was murdered, right in front of me."

Saying it outright like that would be enough to make any normal person flinch, but Dr. Taylor simply gave Max a pained look and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Max groused. "Everybody is."

Dr. Taylor's eyebrows rose slightly. "What makes you say that?"

Max could already tell she'd managed to push a Therapist Button, and struggled to explain without backtracking too much: "It's just what everyone says. Like, 'sorry for your loss'. Why should they be sorry? It's not like it's their fault."

Dr. Taylor leaned back in her chair slightly. "Do you really think that's what they mean by that?"

 _Great, two minutes in and she's already asking tricky questions._ Max wondered for a moment whether that was better or worse than the brick wall she'd talked to at her other appointment.

"No, I mean..." Max shrugged in annoyance. "I guess it's just a stupid _thing_ everyone's supposed to say when somebody dies."

"You think they don't mean it?"

"I mean..." Max closed her eyes for a second. "I don't really know _what_ they mean. Like, I know they wanna be supportive and shit but it's not like they know what they're talking about."

"Maybe they haven't been through what you have. But that's not a reason for you to be mad at them. Going through a tragedy like that can be isolating. Even well-meaning friends can distance themselves because they don't know how to react."

 _Like I did with Chloe?_ Max realized for the first time in four months, and suddenly felt a stone sitting in her gut. _I guess this serves me right._

"But sometimes people who need help build their own walls," Dr. Taylor continued, "and push away people who just want to help them."

That, too, sounded awfully familiar. In fact, Max was pretty sure she knew both sides of those walls.

"There are all sorts of factors that can make you feel alone after a tragedy like this, feel like nobody else could ever understand what you're going through. And maybe that's a little true, but they don't always have to understand to help you. They just have to want to."

 _Isn't that what Kate said? Back when she found me on the roof._ It seemed like an eternity ago. Hearing it from someone who Max figured was an authority on the subject was nice, even if it did make her feel a little stupid for not listening in the first place.

Max shifted on the couch, even though she'd already found a reasonably comfortable position. "I mean, I _have_ talked to some of them about it, and it helped a little, but it's not like they know what it's like. Not totally."

"Well I do, and I hope that I can help you through it. Why don't you start by telling me about yourself?"

Max had plenty of practice with this story, mostly in her head. Now... _Showtime_.

"So... I grew up in a little town on the Oregon coast called Arcadia Bay. There's not much there but fishermen and a college prep school, Blackwell Academy. But it was my home, and I had all these great memories from when I was little."

Max glanced at Dr. Taylor to see her looking back attentively, and continued.

"Like, my best friend there was Chloe Price, and we were really close. We played pirates and video games, we built dams in the creek, made tree forts, and we biked all over the place. We were basically inseparable, like sisters. I remember Saturday morning breakfasts in her house and..." That was supposed to be a happy memory, but as soon as she said it Max couldn't help but remember the last such breakfast they'd shared, and her smile evaporated.

"Then when I was thirteen her dad died in a car accident, the same week my mom got a job all the way up in Seattle. And I guess we weren't inseparable, 'cause we just sort of fell out of touch. And it was kind of my fault."

"How is that?"

Dr. Taylor was still doing little but asking questions, just like Dr. Hartwick, but somehow these didn't feel like a complete waste of time.

"Like... she would text me and write all the time but... it was hard to deal with, and I didn't know what to say. I took longer and longer to write back, and finally just stopped." Max paused her story and smiled ruefully. "Kinda like the whole walls thing we just talked about, but _I_ was doing it. But it's not like I wasn't busy with my new life, too. And I mean... it feels like excuses when I say it, but fitting in at Hamilton was hard enough without having one foot back in my old town.

"Seattle turned out okay, though. I ended up with some nice friends and got a lot of practice at photography. After junior year I was good enough to get a scholarship to Blackwell, right back where I grew up. It's a really good art school, and my favorite-" Max caught herself. "My former favorite photographer taught there, so it was a really big deal."

Dr. Taylor paused, as if noticing Max's correction, but didn't acknowledge it. "How did you feel about going back to your old hometown?"

"Nervous I guess. Mostly 'cause I was off on my own for the first time, but... I was also scared to meet Chloe again, 'cause of how I abandoned her."

"Did you think she'd be mad at you?" Dr. Taylor asked, in the gentle way that only a therapist can.

"She _was_ mad at me, and I deserved it. She needed me and I didn't even text her back for five years. But then she just came outta nowhere and saved me from this guy threatening me in the parking lot, and she didn't stay mad for too long."

"Why do you think that was?"

That was actually a good question, and it merited a moment of thought before Max answered.

"I guess she just really needed someone. Her new best friend went missing last spring, and she was looking for her like crazy; posting fliers all over the place and sneaking into the principal's office to dig through his files for clues. And she kinda dragged me along with her, just like she used to, but this time there was something more to it. We were... not just friends."

Max watched Dr. Taylor for a reaction, but only saw the look of concern growing stronger. She took a deep breath and continued.

"After a few days of looking we figured out Nathan Prescott had something to do with it--he's the football player who was threatening me; his dad owns like half the town. She confronted him in the bathroom, with me hiding in the back, listening, and she told me not to come out no matter what. We didn't know he had a gun. And I just... froze while he pulled it out and shot her."

"That must've been horrible."

"No shit. I barely remember the week after it, and then I'm standing there at her funeral and I realize, I was in love with her, and she's gone because of me. And I know I shouldn't blame myself, everybody keeps saying that, but I know there was a way I could have saved her."

The 'could have saved her' might as well have been a big worm on the end of a hook, dangling in front of Dr. Taylor, enticing her to bite and become the fifty-somethingth person to insist--inaccurately--that no, Max couldn't have stopped it. Max even paused for a moment to give her ample chance, but all Dr. Taylor did was raise an eyebrow for a moment, write a single word in her notebook, then ask a simple question:

"Is this your first time seeing a therapist about this?"

The carpet in the room was an ugly hunter green, worn from years of dirty shoes and not enough vacuuming, but Max decided now was a good time to stare at it. "Yeah. I didn't go at first because I thought I didn't need it. When I started skipping classes and- and screwing up homework I talked to some of my friends, but never to the school counselor. Then things got worse, and well..." She looked back up at Dr. Taylor. "Here I am."

"Well, thank you for coming now." She even sounded like she meant it, at least a little. "I know this is a difficult thing to talk about, and I really hope that I can help you with it."

"You _hope_?" Max felt like she could have used a bit more reassurance than that, even if it was empty.

"I like to think I'm good at my job, but picking a therapist is kind of like dating, it's about finding the right person for you, not the best person. I hope that I can help, but sometimes it doesn't work out and I make a referral to someone who might be a better match."

Max shrugged. "Okay, sure."

Dr. Taylor smiled again, gently. "With that in mind, I'd like to suggest a little exercise to get to know eachother."

Max tried not to roll her eyes, but couldn't help but give her a deeply skeptical look.

"I know, it sounds like something out of middle school, but trust me on this one. Just take a minute to look around the room and pick three items, and I'll tell you about them and what they say about me."

There were certainly plenty of things to choose from. Max's eyes scanned the room, passing over a box of orchids by the windowsill, then past decorative glassware that covered every shelf of the bookcase next to it. On the desk next to that sat a pile of books and an iMac that looked like the one Max's grandmother had, and then another bookshelf, this one with actual books in it that showed their age in the leather bindings and damanged spines.

The thing that caught Max's eye the most, though, was a very big and very formal-looking certificate of some kind hanging above the desk. The font wasn't easy to read but it probably had something to do with the 'PhD' after Dr. Taylor's name.

"That degree there." It was an easy, if uninspired, choice for the first item. From the streaks of discolored paint above it, Max wondered if it was also hiding a water stain.

"Of course. That's my doctorate in psychology from Penn State, almost a decade ago now. It was an awful lot of work but the whole process was amazing."

"Does it mean you know what you're doing?" Max asked wryly.

Dr. Taylor smiled disarmingly. "Some people will tell you yes, but really it means I went to school for four more years, and wrote a 200-page paper. Whether that makes someone more qualified is a matter of debate, but I think it helped me grow as a person, and don't regret it."

"What was the paper about?"

" _Teleological Reasoning in Adolescents and Young Adults_."

Max could practically hear the italics in the title.

"I admit that sounds a bit dry, but once you get past all the statistics and academic frou-frou it was really fascinating."

Max considered asking what 'teleological' meant, but decided she'd rather wrap this useless little exercise up and get on with the session. So she looked over the bookcase again for the second item. There were lots of beautiful blown glass figures on the top shelf--a witch's ball, a collection of tumblers and stemware too pretty or too impractical to drink from, and a few especially colorful plates. They were all gorgeous, and any one of them would have made her mom's eyes light up like a teenager, but Max's gaze settled on an irregular chunk of something at the end of the shelf. It was shaped almost like a rock, but had the familiar greenish hue of thick glass. Looking closer, Max could see spots of opaque white in it, like clouds in a tiny crystal sky.

"What is that?" Max asked, pointing at it.

Dr. Taylor knew what she was pointing at without even looking. "It's slag glass, basically a byproduct from the glassmaking process. My father worked for Bullseye for thirty years, and he'd occasionally take pieces home for us to play with. I always thought this one was pretty, and it reminds me of him."

Max nodded politely and started looking for item number three. She considered the flowers by the window, or maybe even the quilt she was sitting on, but those items were placed there purposefully, _intended_ as personal expression, and in a moment of contrariness Max settled on an item that was a bit more mundane.

"What about that chair you're in?"

From the look on Dr. Taylor's face, Max could tell nobody picked that before, and she was secretly a little proud.

"This? I, uh... I got it at an estate sale when I first moved up here, and I just kept it. Katya really did a number on it when she was a kitten."

 _She's not kidding_ , Max thought as the therapist lifted up one of the arm covers to show long scratch marks, and stuffing coming out in places.

"I suppose I should probably replace it, but I hate furniture shopping. Besides," the lady continued, "It's comfy and I've kind of grown fond of it."

"What does it say about you?"

"That I'm sentimental." She smiled gently. "And maybe a little cheap."

The two of them shared a moment of light laughter before starting the other half of the exercise--the part Max was more uneasy about. Coming up with stories for things she was wearing might be a challenge, and there was no way she'd let this lady rummage around in her messenger bag.

Fortunately, Dr. Taylor had a slightly different idea:

"Now I want you to take a look in that bag you've got there and pull out three items that tell me about _you_. You can pick whatever items you like. Or you can also picture your bedroom and tell me about something from there if you prefer. It's totally up to you."

 _As long as she's not reaching in and pulling out my butterfly card_ , Max thought as she opened the bag and dug in.

Her camera was first; such an obvious choice that Max pulled it out with hardly a conscious thought. She'd tossed it in her bag with just as little thought while packing, and this was the first time she'd taken it out. Luckily it was the JobPro, not the Spectra, so the story wouldn't veer too close to any painful subjects.

"I found this in my grandpa's basement when I was like six. I carried it everywhere for years, and I took so many photos my parents had to start rationing the film. It basically started my thing for photography." Max ran her hands across the front, absent-mindedly opening and closing the front of the camera as she spoke.

"I've had more expensive cameras, but everything's sensors and screens and it's all automatic. I still love the feel of the photos this takes, and how... _physical_ it is, just this simple analog _thing_ that clicks and whirrs. I carried it around with me everywhere, and I used it whenever I could afford to."

That had been easier than Max expected, and she set the camera down on the couch next to her and rummaged through her bag for more inspiration.

Her cell phone was right on top, and that would be easy enough to segue from that into music or something but... _How obvious is that?_ Max thought. _Hi, I'm a teenage girl and my cellphone means a lot to me!_ True, her phone could tell stories about her, but that would require...

She had to dig a bit to find them, but the cord was long and white, and easy to fish out.

"I got these headphones. I mean, it's not like they're a special pair or anything, they just came with my phone, but it was the stuff I listened to on them, like Syd Matters or Alt-J or..." Thinking of more artists gave her another, better idea. "Oh! There's a guitar in my dorm room too. I'm still learning to play it a bit but I can get through a couple Jose Gonzales songs okay, and I know the chords to Australia."

It would have been better to start with the guitar, but at least she managed to get through the second item without making herself look like a total stereotype. Probably.

One more thing left, and Max looked deep into her bag to try and find something that wasn't cliche or boring.

"It doesn't have to be the most important thing," Dr. Taylor said. "Anything you can talk about."

The prodding didn't change her search so much as remind Max that she wanted the exercise to be over, so she stuck her hand in and picked the first thing she felt that wasn't a tampon.

It was her keychain, dangling into the bag off of a clip on the shoulder strap, and Max struggled for a moment to draw some kind of narrative from it.

"I guess the third thing is kind of... two things, actually." Max unclipped the keychain from her bag and ran it through her hands to find the important bits: one lighthouse souvenir with the text 'Arcadia Bay' at the bottom--the only one Max had ever seen for sale; probably the only one the town was big enough to merit manufacturing--and a metal Space Needle collectible.

"I guess I kinda told you about this already, but I grew up in two places, Arcadia Bay and here, and they've always felt really different and separate. Like, this keychain and me are the only thing they have in common."

It would have been better to start with the keychain and end with the camera, but the order didn't seem to matter to Dr. Taylor, who put a few words to paper, then put her notebook down on the armrest and spoke gently and directly to Max:

"I noticed that when I asked you about yourself the first thing you talked about wasn't photography or music, or where you grew up."

"Does that stuff really matter?"

"It does. But more importantly, I can't help but be concerned that the first thing you think of when I ask you about yourself is the trauma you went through. It makes me worry that maybe you see is as the thing that most defines you."

"I... I don't think I define myself by it. At least not totally. But, I mean... it's the reason I'm here. Might as well get right to it."

"Well, there's no need to rush things. Generally, this works best when you give it the time it needs."

"I kind of have a deadline."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The principal gave me two weeks to go home and get therapy before I go back to school."

"Well I hope you don't mind me saying so, but your principal sounds like an idiot. This kind of therapy doesn't finish in two _months_ , and forcing you to change therapists two weeks in... you might as well start from square one. Unless he thinks you'll be going back to Seattle every weekend."

"No, I think he just wanted to cover his own ass, after I hit Courtney." Max braced herself for the obvious follow-up question.

Dr. Taylor paused for a second, then asked it: "Who's Courtney?"

"She's one of the girls from the Vortex Club. Which is just a bunch of rich kids throwing parties and drinking together."

"And why did you hit her?" Dr. Taylor asked.

"She dropped a book on the floor. Not just by accident, she was trying to make me have a flashback. Then I was freaking out and she was shouting at me saying Chloe deserved to get shot."

"That's an awful thing for a person to do. Do you think Courtney deserved to be punched?"

"Definitely. Even some of her friends said so. I still shouldn't have hit her though. At least," Max mumbled, "not in front of the principal."

Dr. Taylor had so far managed to keep her face impassive, but now she joined Max in a bemused smile.

"Well I suppose I can understand why he sent you home. Still, it's not ideal, given the distance."

"Maybe we could Skype or something?" Max suggested.

"I haven't done that before, but I might be willing to consider it, at least in the short term while you transition back to school."

"Yeah, it's not hard."

"I skype with my cousins all the time, I'm not worried about setting it up. I just don't know if it's a substitute for an in-person session."

Max shrugged uneasily. "I guess we'll see what we can figure out, when it comes to that?"

"I guess so." She didn't sound thrilled at the idea.

Dr. Taylor returned to her notes for a moment, scribbled a few words, then looked back to Max.

"You said that this girl dropped a book and it triggered a flashback. I assume that's because it sounded like a gunshot?"

Max nodded.

"How often does something like that happen?"

Max leaned back in her chair and sighed. "You can save some time and skip the PTSD checklist. I can already tell you, I check every box."

Dr. Taylor didn't seem terribly put off by Max's attitude. If anything she smiled even more gently. "This kind of therapy can't be rushed like that, even if we have a deadline. When I ask you questions like that I'm not looking for a yes/no answer to put into some spreadsheet. Anybody can do that. A _website_ can do that. I want to understand your symptoms and how they affect you, so I can help you with them. I'm not asking you if you have flashbacks, I'm asking when and how often they happen, and what sorts of things cause them, so we can work out how to prevent them and help you deal with them."

"Right, sorry. Um... maybe a dozen? Some of them might've just been panic attacks after I have a nightmare, I don't know. It's worse when I'm in the hallway right outside the bathroom where... you know. I can usually walk past it as long as I don't look at it, but then the book... yeah it sounded like a gunshot. And the other time the security guard was kicking a bunch of kids out. That one was worse cause the door was open and I could see inside. I almost punched the security guard when she tried to help me."

Max paused for a moment and realized how much she'd said. "That sounds pretty bad, doesn't it."

"It sounds like what you witnessed affected you a lot. Just like it would any normal person. You said you get nightmares too?"

"Yeah. They used to be awful every night, so bad my dentist had to give me a mouth guard to keep me from grinding my teeth down. After a while I figured out I could stay up really late and then I'd be too tired to remember them. And yeah, I know that's not healthy."

"It's not, but it's natural to try to avoid things that make us feel bad. We can talk about better strategies in a moment."

"Yeah," Max said as all the things she didn't want to think about came to mind.

"What _other_ sorts of things do you have to avoid?"

"All sorts of places. Like, the bathroom obviously. I haven't gone in it; I can't even look at it without freaking out a bit. And there's this old diner that Chloe's mom works at--worked at--and Chloe and I used to eat there all the time but now I don't even wanna look at it when we drive past. Or their old house, or the pool where we hung out the one night, or... pretty much half the campus. Like, it was a month before I could even set foot in the photography classroom again."

Dr. Taylor looked lost in thought for a moment, then met Max's gaze again.

"I noticed that when you talked about photography and music, you used the past tense sometimes. I take it you've been having trouble enjoying things like that recently?"

"Yeah. I used to really like taking photos. I did it all the time, whenever I saw a neat shape in the outline of a tree, or a real honest moment, or just a cute animal caught my eye. And I was good, too. Like, good enough to get a scholarship to Blackwell from it. And I loved it."

"And now you don't?"

"I've barely picked up my camera since. It was hard to even do my projects for that class."

Dr. Taylor nodded. "Have you had any other troubles doing normal things? Changes in your habits and such?"

"I haven't hung out all that much with friends, or done much homework, and I skipped like half my classes. And I was pretty much addicted to TV 'til Mom changed the Netflix password."

"Any other addictions?" Dr. Taylor segued skillfully. "Drugs? Alcohol?"

"Not really. I mean..." Max looked at her therapist hesitantly.

"Remember the consent form you signed? You're 18. Other than the exceptions on it, I'm not legally allowed to tell anyone--even your parents--anything without your permission."

 _It's not really an addiction anyways, right? Medical Marijuana's a thing,_ Max thought as she took a deep breath and decided to come clean. _Maybe she'll even approve._

"I've smoked pot a few times, just to make it easier when things get really bad. It helps, but I don't exactly have a prescription for it."

"How often do you feel a need for it?"

Max stared out the window and considered the number. _Four from Frank, two from Victoria the first time._ She paused to wonder if she really needed to count all the joints she'd smoked. _Then four the second time and I have one left, so..._ "Nine? Yeah, nine times, since that week."

Max wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a glimmer of a smile on Dr. Taylor's face.

"I don't know if I'd call that an addiction," Dr. Taylor said. "I knew people in college who smoked that much in a week. It's not great for your lungs, certainly, and there are plenty of other options that could be better, but I'm not going to scold you about it. I'm just a psychologist, I can't write prescriptions or tell you what to put in your body. I know a few people who can, and I'd be happy to refer you when we get to that point."

"Right." _That could have gone worse._

"Is that the whole checklist?" Max shot Dr. Taylor a half smile, and hoped she wouldn't take the question too seriously.

"Not quite." Dr. Taylor didn't smile back. "Have you ever had suicidal thoughts, or thought about hurting yourself?"

Max swallowed hard, and tried not to show how uncomfortable the question made her feel. "What happens if I say yes?"

"I would need to ask you more about them," Dr. Taylor answered calmly, "to help me understand whether you were at risk of harming yourself."

"Then I get hauled off by men in lab coats?" Max focused on the notebook in the therapists hand, rather than meet her gaze.

Dr. Taylor shifted slightly in her armchair; her arm twitched sharply as she put down the notebook to face Max directly. "It doesn't work like you see in the movies. If I felt you needed it I'd recommend you admit yourself to a psychiatric facility. Most people take that recommendation, but I'll be honest with you: if you refused, and I really thought that you were an imminent danger to yourself I could have you committed involuntarily for a few days."

Max fidgeted quietly in her chair, still trying not to look too obviously nervous.

"It's not something I take lightly," Dr. Taylor continued. "Even if it's meant to help it can be scary and dehumanizing for a while. I had to do it once and I wondered for weeks whether it was the right decision, but the next time I talked to that person they thanked me for it."

It wasn't exactly the 'no' Max was hoping for, but it wasn't exactly a surprise either. Nor was it the empty lie that Max expected; she'd done enough research to know the law, and probably made the folks at Google extremely worried about her well-being in the process.

"I hope that you can trust that I'll only do something like that if I think it would save your life, and I hope that I can trust you to be honest with me and talk about those feelings so I can help you."

"Right."

Dr. Taylor looked carefully at Max. "How often have you had those thoughts?"

_'What happens if I say yes?' Real clever Caulfield. What're you gonna say next, 'I'm just asking for a friend'?_

Max sighed. "It was just when things got really bad, like maybe every couple weeks. I could see myself jumping off of the dormitory roof."

"How close did you come to doing it?"

"I..." Max thought hard about the word 'trust' and forced herself to tell the truth for once. "I went up there a few times. Not, like, standing on the ledge or anything, just sitting there looking around and... I told myself it was just 'cause of the view, but just the fact that I _could_ was kind of comforting. I know how bad that sounds, and there was always a part of me that was scared that I might actually do it, but I still went up."

Dr. Taylor pulled out her notebook again and wrote a single word in it. "What brings those feelings on?"

"I had uh..." Max paused to remember which version of the story her therapist was getting. "Last Friday I had a dream where I was living with Chloe. Like, with her as my girlfriend. And I just wanted that so much, and I knew it couldn't happen 'cause of what I did, and I just... didn't want to exist anymore. I still blame myself sometimes, when it gets bad."

"Have you thought about ways you might commit suicide while you're not at school?"

Max shook her head weakly. "It _scared me_ , thinking like that. It hasn't happened since I got back home."

"Are there any weapons in your household?"

Max winced at the question. "No, definitely not."

Dr. Taylor made a quick mark in her notebook. "How do you handle it when you have that sort of feeling?"

"I dunno." Max shrugged. "I mean... mostly I just pushed through it. Like, it only lasted a few minutes. And sometimes talking to a friend helped. Or pot," she added guiltily.

"How about your parents? Have you ever talked to them about these feelings?"

"No, not really. It doesn't really happen much when I'm at home."

"I see." Dr. Taylor "Do you think you should?"

"Probably. I mean my mom would freak but my dad..." 

"It's important that you have somebody to talk to when you feel like that. It can be a parent, or a friend, or me... even a suicide hotline."

"I don't think it'll happen again, now that I'm up here. It didn't over Christmas break."

"Can you really guarantee that?"

Max stared at the row of earthenware pots on the shelf behind Dr. Taylor.

"I can give you my pager number, and a few other resources to contact if I'm unavailable. Some people would rather to talk to someone they already know closely, others would prefer a stranger. Either one is fine, as long as you actually do it."

"I'll probably stick to my dad, and maybe my one friend."

"Have you told them about those thoughts before?"

Max just shook her head in response.

"It's probably best you do, so it doesn't come as a surprise, and they're ready to help you."

"Yeah. I'll try."

"'Try'?."

"I'll tell someone. Definitely. I don't want to kill myself."

"That's important," Dr. Taylor said encouragingly. "But you also need to learn how to handle the times that you do. Having somebody who already knows means there's one less hurdle to talking about it when you really need help."

"Right." Max went back to studying the carpet.

"I know this isn't an easy subject to talk about. I'm proud of you for being honest with me. It takes courage to admit to that, but it makes me more confident that I can really help you, without having you inpatient."

"That's... that's good." Max was proud of herself too, for managing the entire subject without lying. _Maybe I won't get hauled off to the funny farm after all._ There was still a lot that she wasn't ready to talk about, but maybe that could wait for the next session--because Max was starting to believe there really would be a next session.

But for now, there was something else on her mind, and the quiet after that topic provided an opening to segue to it.

"If you don't mind me changing the subject a little, I have some... more mundane stuff to deal with too."

"Oh? What sort of stuff?"

"Like, girlfriend troubles. It's a long story, but over Christmas break I started dating this girl named Victoria..."

That was easier to talk about, and before Max knew it Dr. Taylor was glancing at the clock on the wall and Max was putting her camera and headphones back into her bag, in preparation for the long bus ride back home.

"Remember what we talked about," the therapist said as she put away her notebook and stood up from the ratty armchair. "If you're having thoughts about hurting yourself, or even if you feel like you're close, it's important to tell someone."

A business card, fished out of yet another glass trinket on the shelf, gave Max a phone and pager number.

"You can call or page me any time, or you can talk to someone you trust. You might have moments where it seems like the only way out, but they're just moments. You're a sweet and bright young girl, and you have a promising future ahead of you, as long as you don't let one of those moments end it."

"Yeah." Her annoyance at the cliched therapist talk was mostly tempered by the fact that Dr. Taylor was probably right. There was no good way to tell her parents that she'd been suicidal, but she had a long bus ride to think about what might be the least painful way.

"Do you have any questions?"

There was one. It had been easy to ask Dr. Hartwick because Max hadn't been planning on coming back, but now it was hard to voice, because the answer really mattered.

"What do you think about... supernatural stuff?"

One thing Max had learned from Dr. Hartwick: The actual answer didn't matter as much as how it was delivered, with hesitation or certainty, condescension or actual connection.

Dr. Taylor didn't miss a beat.

"I think the world is a strange and wonderful place. Some of my patients have told me about experiences that they couldn't explain; even _I_ 've witnessed things that I know I'm not supposed to believe, if you listen to all the scientists. I don't think that's a sign that I need to be fixed."

"So, like... what if you had a patient who thought they were Jesus or something?"

"Well, that's not exactly my specialty, but I think it's important to consider the belief in the context of the effect it has on a person's life. If they kept trying to walk on water and hurting themselves I'd say it's a delusion that needs to be fixed. But not all beliefs are harmful. I've had clients who genuinely think they can talk to spirits, or see into other universes, and I don't necessarily want to medicate that away. I assume there's a reason you're asking?"

Max smiled weakly and shrugged. "Maybe we should save that for another appointment?"

"Of course. Normally I see people once a week, but it sounds like you and I have a lot to talk about. I have time for you Tuesday mornings at 8 if that works for you."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

'Good' was a relative term, given how much Max usually hated early morning classes. But there was only one more week before her suspension was up, and she had a feeling it would take more than two appointments before she'd be cleared to attend again.

Dr. Taylor walked Max through her house to the front door, talking as she went. "Over the weekend I'd like you to think about what your goals are for this therapy. What you _want_. They can be as simple as being able to get back to school, or harder ones, like being able to enjoy photography again. The more ideas you have the better; the more we can talk about."

Even suspended and 200 miles away from Blackwell, apparently there was no escaping homework.

"Okay," Max said as she retrieved her jacket from the overflowing coat hooks by the front door.

She waved a friendly goodbye as Dr. Taylor closed the front door behind her, and walked briskly down the street towards the bus stop, enjoying the spots of midday sun on her face.

Right now she couldn't be more relieved that the session was over. But in spite of the butterflies that were just now leaving her stomach, in spite of the everything she wasn't yet ready to say, in spite of fact that this lady had given her honest-to-god homework, she also couldn't wait for Tuesday to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was probably the most challenging to write in the whole work. For a long time I was planning not to do this kind of chapter at all, mostly because it was so tough, but I finally gave in and realized that it was necessary, and more importantly gained the confidence to attempt it. Not only is it plot-important and extremely heavy, it also required a lot of research to do it right (If anyone saw my search history they'd be really worried).
> 
> Even after all the research it certainly wasn't easy, putting myself in the shoes of a psychologist to figure out how they might realistically handle Max and her issues, and I honestly still don't know if I even got close, since I'm not an expert in this subject.
> 
> Then again, this is a world where time powers and town-destroying tornadoes are a thing. If Dr. Taylor seems a little too good to be true, remember: Dontnod can conjure up a supernatural tornado to destroy Max's life. Why can't I find somebody with the power to help her fix it back up again?
> 
> * * *
> 
> I've been super-busy with both [the kittens](https://imgur.com/ByHrfAC.jpg) and upgrading my writing software. A normal person might use Google Docs or Dropbox; I use a Proxmox, Ubuntu Server, Seafile, and Nginx stack. I just went through an upgrade of some of those parts, plus a total overhaul of [my home network](https://imgur.com/k08ZqKU.jpg), which is no small task. In short the last few weeks have been harder than usual on me.
> 
> So, after this super-long chapter I'll be taking that one-week break I mentioned. Next update will be 7/20.


	89. Paths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to normal posting schedule! Things are still a bit hectic, and I can't guarantee there won't be another missed week or two, but for now, enjoy!

Normally it would have felt immensely strange for Max to look into a bathroom mirror and see Chloe's face instead of her own. Right now it didn't even register that anything was wrong.

Nor did it occur to Max to wonder why she was in the bathroom, or why Nathan was shouting at her. Indeed, the abuse he piled on seemed the most natural thing in the world, and well-deserved at that. His face was red, contorted in anger, and Max could almost feel tiny flecks of spittle landing on her tank top.

It was hardly a surprise when the gun came out, and Max wasn't afraid of it until it was shoved into her gut and fired. The bullet traveled through her in a kind of slow motion, tearing through muscle and flesh and ricocheting off bone until it lodged itself in her throat. She slumped to the floor, and as soon as the first flash went off she realized she wasn't in a bathroom at all; she was lying on a white sheet, staring up at fluorescent lights and concrete beams.

The wound didn't hurt, even though Max knew it should. She tried to reach her hands to it but instead they laid on the ground at her sides, twitching more and more the harder she tried but coming no closer to obeying her commands.

She could feel her fingers growing cold even while sweat ran down her cheeks, and blackness started to intrude on the edges of her vision. Every part of her felt tired, but unlike nodding off in class, there was no stopping it, no shaking life back into her limbs or her head, no peeling herself from the floor for a quick jog to get her blood pumping again.

The pulse that was beating in her ears faded, and soon so did the rise and fall of her chest. She didn't want to die, but there was no stopping it, no willing herself back to life. The _pop_ of the flashes around her was now the only source of light, and she saw herself in moments, frozen in Jefferson's frames, eyes emptying.

Max put every single ounce of effort she had left into moving, sitting up, screaming, _something_ that might save herself, but she was dead now, and nothing in the world would save her until she woke up.

Now, instead of hearing silence where her heartbeat should be, it was hard to hear anything else. It took a few moments, and a lot of focus, to unclench her fists and let go of the crumpled sheets they were clinging to. It took even longer to slow her breathing down to something even close to a normal rate. Opening her eyes was difficult too, but she forced herself to, just to make sure she was still in her room. Sure enough, empty white walls towered over her bed, decorated only by the few remaining posters she hadn't bothered to take to Blackwell.

It was the first truly awful dream Max had had in weeks--or at least the first one she remembered. Streaming TV every night until 2AM had kept them at bay for a while, but it wasn't a winning strategy in the long-run, and now it was catching up with her.

She pulled her mouthguard out to take a few deep breaths. Damp sheets clung to her skin as she sat up in bed to place it on the nightstand. Even having worn it, the left side of her jaw throbbed slightly, and popped as she worked it back and forth.

Her first fully coherent thought was to wonder whether her scream had been a part of the dream, or a part of waking up, and if the latter, whether it might have disturbed her parents.

The slightest of thumping noises from below confirmed her fears. For a second she hoped it had been a truck outside, or perhaps an animal in the front yard, but then she heard the knock on her door.

It was soft and slow, gentle tapping; if Max had been asleep it wouldn't have even woken her. For a minute Max stayed silent, hoping that her mother might go back to sleep, but the knock came again, louder and more urgent. Max whispered 'yes' into the darkness and the door opened to admit her mother, wearing a long robe and a worried look.

"Is everything alright?" Vanessa asked softly. Even though she must've already known the answer.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was just a bad dream." The only light came from a faraway streetlight and filtered through the Venetian blinds to leave a pattern of stripes on her mother's face. Even when its features weren't visible, it was still hard to look in that direction when Max lied like that.

"Do you want me to let you get back to sleep?"

On first thought being alone was exactly what Max wanted, but she'd been down that path before, spent hours tossing and turning, feeling alone and ill, and wishing she didn't exist. The dorm rooftop was hundreds of miles away, but Max could still see herself ending up there tonight--if only figuratively--if she followed her first instinct and shooed her mother away. Maybe now was a time to try a different approach.

"No. It's fine." It still took concerted effort to make herself say the words. "You can stay."

Vanessa walked up to the bed quietly, and sat down next to Max's feet. "What was the dream about? If you don't mind me asking."

"I..." Max really did mind her asking, but she thought about her promise to Dr. Taylor and forced herself to answer anyways. "I dreamed I was Chloe in the bathroom, and..." Max could already picture her mother's horrified look. "And he shot me, and then I was just lying there, feeling myself dying." Max remembered something about Mr. Jefferson too, but it was fuzzy and would just scare her mother more.

Vanessa gasped softly and crawled across the bed toward Max, wrapping her in a tight hug that made Max almost regret being so honest.

"Oh, baby, it's okay! It's okay, you're safe now."

Max did her best to extricate herself from her mother's tight hug enough to respond. "I know, it's okay. Don't worry about it, I'm used to them."

If anything, that probably made Vanessa even more worried. "Oh, I wish I could just pull all that awful stuff out of your head." Her mother ran her hand over Max's hair; a gesture she hadn't had to do in nearly half a decade. Max hated it--not that it didn't make her feel better, but that it was necessary at all.

"It's... it wasn't as bad as some of them. I've had a lot of dreams like that, where I die, and..." Max took a deep breath. "Sometimes when I woke up I wished they were true." Max could feel her mom wince at that one, and cling tigher. "Dr. Taylor said I should talk about it, and so did everybody else but I didn't wanna scare anybody."

"It's alright honey. It might be scary but it's always alright to need help. I just can't believe I didn't see it before. You were going through all these awful things, and I was so busy with work I barely even noticed."

"It's not your fault," Max said. "I've been trying to pretend things were okay, and just being up here away from everything made it easier for a while. I didn't want you to worry; I just wanted to finish school and move on." She chuckled slightly. "So much for that, I guess."

Her mother gave her another quick squeeze. "I'm sure you'll be ready to go back to Blackwell soon enough."

"I..." Max took a deep breath and gathered every last bit of courage she could summon. "I don't know if I should." Max was surprised she was admitting to that at all, let alone to her mother, but she continued. "I don't think I can take six more months of walking past that bathroom every day. The whole campus just feels... dark and sad now, and it's not really home anymore, if it ever was. And it's not like the other students aren't friendly, but I don't really know them; I was only there for like a month before everything happened."

Her mother rested her chin on top of Max's head, and Max felt a quick shiver, along with no small amount of relief that she didn't have to have this conversation eye to eye.

"There was a part of me that was _happy_ I was suspended because it meant I could get away from all of it for a little longer. And I told you Dr. Taylor was great, and I wanna keep seeing her, but it's not like I can drive up here twice a week. I know it'll screw up college and everything but..."

Her mother wrapped her hand around Max's. "Well, I'm sure we could figure something out."

Max finally turned to make eye contact. "What do you mean?"

"You have options. I imagine they'd be happy to let you come back next fall if you wanted to take a while off. You'd have to reapply to colleges but I think things would work out."

"Maybe." Max had braced herself for more of a reaction than this, and it was taking a moment to let go of that anxiousness. "Some time off might help, but I'm not sure I'd _want_ to go back, even after a year. Not just 'cause of bad memories; I mean... I went there for photography, and the whole program kinda sucks now. Besides, they might not even _be there_ next year."

Her mother flashed a sideways smile. "True. There are options up here too though, like night school and a GED, or even just transferring back to Roosevelt."

"How would that even work? I'm failing half my classes, and the other half of them they don't even offer here."

"I don't know. It would be something you'd have to talk to Mr. Keming about."

"I guess...?" Max trailed off in thought for a moment, before connecting the name to her old school guidance counselor. "But I mean, I already got a scholarship to RIT and I'm supposed to be hearing about one to San Fran soon. Won't I lose those if I don't finish Blackwell? Then I'll never go to college."

Her mother sighed. "I don't like to count our chickens before they hatch, but remember, you're expecting a settlement. That should give you some better options. I know you don't love it, but that's what this sort of thing is for, making it easier to get your life back together."

Max could hardly believe which side of the conversation her mother was arguing for. "Do you _want_ me to drop out of Blackwell?"

"I want you to do what's best for you. If that's what that means, then yes." Her eyes narrowed for a moment. "I trust you'll discuss it with me more before you actually make a decision."

"Yeah." Max smiled slightly. "Of course. And dad," Max added, because that conversation would be much easier with him involved.

"Him too." Her mom smiled slightly. "I'm surprised you didn't run this by him first."

"I wasn't exactly planning to have this conversation at 2AM like this."

"Well I'm glad you could confide in me anyways. I'm not all 'bad cop', you know."

Max smiled. "I know."

"I really do love you, and I want what's best for you. Even if I'm not a big teddy bear like your father."

Vanessa wrapped her arms around Max again as if to prove the point, and the hug wasn't quite the big bear hug that he usually delivered, but it was warm, and comforting, and Max slept the rest of the night in those arms, untroubled by dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter Max and her therapist set up a "[safety plan](https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2018/07/11/628029412/a-simple-emergency-room-intervention-can-help-cut-future-suicide-risk)" of sorts. I'm sure she didn't expect to need to use it so soon, but forcing herself to talk about things in therapy put her mind in a weird place, and this was the result.


	90. Evidence

Not since Victoria's big confession at the Vortex Club party had Max's phone blown up like it did at 7AM on Friday morning. The first half-dozen texts she ignored easily--she didn't even stir for most of them--but she knew she'd have to actually get out of bed when she heard the ring of an honest-to-god phone call.

Doubly so when she realized the caller was Dana.

"Is something wrong?" Max asked over the line.

Dana's voice was excited, with just a touch of nervousness noticeable over the noisy line. "Didn't you see the news? It's like, all over everywhere."

"What is?!"

"Just, like, turn on your TV. The whole Jefferson thing just blew the hell up. There was a bunch of raids and... holy shit that's Sean Prescott... he's getting shoved in a police cruiser."

Max was most of the way down the stairs before Dana even finished the sentence.

"What channel is it on?" Max asked.

"I don't know, I'm streaming it but it's probably on all the news networks?"

Max spotted her parents--eating cereal at the counter as usual--out of the corner of her eye, but didn't even acknowledge them before making a beeline to the kitchen TV.

"Okay, I'll text you," she said before hanging up and turning on the TV.

As she was flipping through the channels trying to find CNN, her father asked: "Is something going on?"

Instead of responding, Max finally found the proper channel and let the TV answer for her.

"...the fourteenth arrest today. There's no word on formal charges, but there is speculation that these raids are somehow related to the incident last year in which Blackwell teacher Mark Jefferson drugged, kidnapped, and photographed over fifty young women, many of them students from his classes. Jefferson, as as we reported earlier, died in a prison brawl three weeks ago, and his co-conspirator Nathan Prescott--the son of the man we saw being arrested a moment ago--remains at Minich Creek Psychiatric Facility under a controversial plea bargain."

_Three weeks? It feels like six months._

"Also arrested in the raids were prominent Seattle businessman Harvey Ricks and former Blackwell principal Raymond Wells, both known to have had a close relationship with Jefferson, as well as other figures in the Seattle art scene."

"Holy shit!" Max's father's voice came from right behind her, startling her slightly. "I talked to that guy once--almost sold him a boat--and I didn't... Did you know anything about this?"

"How would-" Max began before realizing he wasn't looking at her.

"I had some idea of the scope of it all, thanks to Max," Vanessa said, "but none of us expected... _this_."

"...are expecting to hear an official statement in a few minutes," the TV continued, without regard for their conversation. "We've gotten confirmation from our news team in Vancouver that the RCMP has conducted a raid on a penthouse apartment on Howe street, and their statement should be coming soon as well. We haven't been able to confirm the targets of that raid, or whether it's related to the raids here in Seattle and Portland, but the occupant of the penthouse, Kenneth Fredricks, is said to have been a close associate of Mark Jefferson."

"I'm sorry honey." Her mother's hand rested on her shoulder. "I'm sure it must be awful to know they might've seen photos of you like that."

Max's chest tightened, but not for the reason Vanessa must have assumed. _Nobody_ saw those photos, because they didn't exist in this reality. Max was thankful for it, since there was no way her mother would come across them in the lawsuit, but equally terrified that she might notice their absence, and wonder why.

"It's fine," Max said. "Just..." An idea came to her. "Did _you_ ever see them? Like, in the evidence or stuff?"

Max knew the answer to that, but asked anyways, and did her best to sound upset at the thought.

"I never looked at _any_ of the photos. It wasn't my area."

"Could you... not be on the case?" Max managed to work the perfect amount of fear and desperation into her voice. It wasn't hard when what she was really afraid of was actually worse.

"I _suppose_ , but..." Vanessa looked right at Max, worried but still with a touch of sternness. "Why?"

"I don't want you to see me like that." _Or not see me._

"Oh. Don't worry, I don't generally go looking around in the evidence like that. We have strict rules on who even have access."

"It still kinda creeps me out. I mean, I can handle some random pervert looking at them but you? I don't want you to have to think about me like that. No mom should, ever! And I don't wanna have to worry about it. Besides, Dad said you're just doing subpoena stuff, right? They'll do okay without you."

"It's true, I'm not exactly a critical part of the team."

Max put on her best begging face. "Could you please, just, do this for me?"

Vanessa gave Max's shoulders a comforting squeeze. "Of course, sweetie."

It may not have been for the reason her parents thought, but Max's look of relief was genuine.

With that out of the way, the three returned their attentions to the television:

"...legal correspondent Evan Kling, who joins us live via Skype from his office in Portland. Evan, what kind of crime could these people be charged with?"

"It's impossible to say for certain without more information, but if they were involved in some way with Jefferson's crimes they would be looking at felony murder for the deaths of Rachel Amber and Chloe Price. Given that the raids were conducted by the FBI, there are likely RICO charges in store for them too."

"If they had copies of the photos, would they be charged with that as well?"

"It's hard to say. Many of the subjects were under 18, but child pornography statues only cover actual nudity, and according to police statements none of the..."

Max winced and pulled her phone back out of her PJ pocket to text Kate.

**Max:** Have you heard?

**Kate:** I'm with Dana now, watching on her laptop

**Max:** How are you holding up?

**Kate:** I'm fine

**Kate:** I've had time to be at peace with the idea

Max's mother finally went back to breakfast, watching the TV attentively from the breakfast bar, and her father joined in, leaving Max to slump down on the couch and continue texting.

**Max:** Any word from the rest of the group?

**Kate:** Not right now, but they already knew

**Kate:** They all got visits or calls from the police earlier in the week and we talked about it at the meeting

**Max:** Glad I wasn't there for that

**Kate:** It was pretty intense

**Kate:** There was a lot of anger, and crying, but I think we ended up in a good place

**Kate:** It turns out you and I weren't the only ones who knew

**Kate:** K figured it out too, in the middle of her second FBI interview

**Kate:** And T heard rumors about it but she wasn't sure

**Max:** I bet L took it hard

Max looked at the text she'd just sent and realized that using that particular code letter wasn't quite enough

**Max:** Redhead L

**Kate:** She did. And Other L was so mad

**Kate:** M was just her usual self

**Max:** Not surprised

**Max:** Did they talk about *me* at all?

Max held her breath as she waited for the answer.

**Kate:** I told them why you weren't there when the meeting began

**Kate:** They didn't seem too surprised

**Kate:** And they kind of cheered a little when I told them who you punched

**Kate:** They send their best 'Get Well Soon' wishes

The television blared commercials in the background as Max switched conversations.

**Max:** Thanks for letting me know.

**Max:** How are things going at Blackwell?

**Dana:** Still fucking crazy

**Dana:** Vics back and trying 2 take Courtney down

**Dana:** Not a hard job nowadays

**Dana:** Every1 realized what a psycho she is and hates her

**Dana:** Miss Gibson's trying 2 schedule meetings with the whole school

**Dana:** She called it "follow up"

**Dana:** Cause "ass covering" was 2 obv

**Dana:** Now theres this raid thing

**Max:** How's Kate taking the news?

**Dana:** Surprisingly well

**Dana:** No tears or freakout

**Dana:** I think she kinda knew already

**Max:** Could you give her a big hug from me?

**Dana:** Of course!

**Dana:** Ur still free sat right?

**Max:** Yeah, why?

**Dana:** Road trip!!!!!!!

**Max:** Oh

**Max:** Don't worry about me

**Max:** I don't need a visit

**Dana:** You totally do! I bet your bored af

Dana wasn't wrong about that, even if she was using the wrong 'your'.

**Dana:** Besides i told all the girls and they wanted 2 come 2

**Dana:** Even your gf

The thought of Victoria sharing a van with Dana, Kate, Alyssa, and god knows who else strained credulity, just a little.

**Max:** Seriously?

**Max:** Victoria's coming with you?

**Dana:** Shes taking her own car since she has other stuff 2 do in seattle

**Dana:** But yeah shes coming

**Dana:** Shes mellowed out a bit

**Dana:** I think ur a good influence on her

**Max:** What are we even gonna do?

**Max:** You're not expecting me to make plans, are you?

**Dana:** Dont worry

**Dana:** I got it all figured out

_That's something at least._ The thought of being expected to keep a half-dozen friends entertained for a day on the town was almost terrifying, but without that pressure Max could just let go and go with the flow, and that suited her perfectly. There was even something relaxing about it.

**Max:** Gonna take us to another thrift store? :-P

**Dana:** I dont know the area but im open to ideas

**Max:** I'm mostly kidding

**Max:** I'm sure whatever you pick will be fun

The news announcers had moved on to the middle east, and Max reached to shut it off rather than hear about whatever horrific things Hamas and Israel were doing to eachother this week.

**Dana:** Well be there around 10

**Max:** Okay

**Max:** Wait that means you'll be waking up around 5 AM

**Max:** Will you guys even be awake enough to hang out?

**Dana:** Only 1 of us has to drive

**Dana:** Everyone else will probably nap on the way

**Dana:** Where do u want 2 meet?

The texting was interrupted by a kiss on the forehead as her mother said her goodbyes and left for work.

She went back to her chat with Dana, only to realize there was one more thing that needed to fall into place. Luckily her father was still at the breakfast bar, and probably still in a sympathetic mood.

"Hey, dad? Uh... my Blackwell friends wanna do something with me this weekend. Like, they're coming all the way up here to see me and hang out in the city and stuff. Is... is that okay?"

"We told you what your punishment was. No more streaming six hours of TV every night, and you have to find yourself a therapist. You have another appointment with Mrs. Taylor, right?"

"Yeah, for Tuesday. She was pretty good."

"Well then I don't see why not. You're not grounded."

"Why not, though? Not like I _want_ to be," she added quickly, "but you've grounded me for less."

"I would've thought that was obvious," her father said gently. "Being cooped up in your room and kept away from your friends is the _last_ thing you need right now. They want to support you; why on earth would we get in the way of that? It's almost as important as seeing Dr. Taylor."

"Right," Max said, then made a connection that she hadn't before. "Wait, are _you_ the one who told Kristen's mom I was back home?"

Her father smiled slyly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Max's "It feels like six months." is my little nod to my long-term readers, for whom it's actually been six months since that chapter.
> 
> [New computer build](https://pcpartpicker.com/b/97nH99) went nicely. I still need to migrate all my files to it before I start using it full-time, but it's a beast.


	91. Colors

Max wasn't looking forward to seeing Kris and the gang again.

It wasn't that she didn't like them, or even that she didn't want to hang out, just... _Things'll be weird_. There was no way around that after her big teary announcement on Monday, even if all their texts had hardly mentioned it. Max kept wondering which would be worse: discussing it, or staying quiet and letting it hang over them, unspoken but unavoidable.

She was halfway through smothering a nice warm cinnamon raisin bagel in cream cheese when her phone buzzed with a text from Kristen.

It triggered a small knot of anxiety in her stomach, which took the place of the appetite she'd had seconds before. She paused mid spread, but the morning's lecture from her father ran through her mind: _"Make sure you eat something real for lunch,"_ he'd said, with only a little frustration in his voice. _"I don't want to come home and find you've been starving yourself like yesterday."_ She forced herself to keep spreading until the whole bagel was covered in a thick layer of white, just how she liked it.

Finally Max put down the knife and read the message with a sigh of relief: Kristen had found a place where neither awkward silence nor conversation were options.

 **Kristen:** You up for the Croc tonight?

She put the cream cheese back into the fridge door and sat down to tap out an answer.

 **Max:** Yeah, sure

She wasn't exactly sure if she was in the mood for it, but she could see Kris reaching for something normal to do, and that sounded better than anything Max had imagined.

 **Max:** Who's playing?

 **Kristen:** Someone called boy and bear

Max held the bagel in her left hand and tapped out brief responses with her right.

 **Max:** Any good?

 **Kristen:** I have no idea but they sound like your kind of thing

 **Max:** Okay sure

 **Kristen:** Good cause I already got tickets

_Trust Kris to do that._

**Max:** Who's coming?

 **Kristen:** Alicia and Beth for sure

 **Kristen:** I'll let you know when Ferdie and Hallie get back to me

Max's brow furrowed. _What's she doing inviting Hallie? She's never done anything with us other than play practice._ But maybe their social circle had shifted in Max's absence, or maybe Kristen was just reaching for people to fill out the group.

 **Max:** Are we biking there again?

 **Kristen:** Alicia volunteered to DD as long as we all chip in for parking

 **Kristen:** Just be ready and at the curb around 6:30 tonight

 **Max:** Can't wait!

Max wasn't quite feeling the enthusiasm that she was projecting, but it wasn't like she had anything better to do on a Friday evening. Besides, she had a distinct feeling that once the music started she'd be glad she went.

* * *

There was some kind of irony in going outside for a breath of fresh air only to find nothing but smokers in the fenced-off area by the Croc. The January air passed slowly around the tall buildings that surrounded them, and Max breathed out a chilly fog as if she were one of the nicotine addicts she was trying in vain to stay upwind of.

It was worth it, though, to get a break from the ten-foot-tall stacks of loudspeakers, and the songs that--no matter how quiet and contemplative--still managed to ring in Max's ears.

It wasn't that she didn't like the music. The group was halfway decent, and Kristen was right: it was totally her thing. But the floor in front of the stage left Max enervated, rather than energized, and out here was the only place Max could think of to recharge.

Beth, apparently felt the same way.

"What do you think of the music?" she asked casually as she walked up alongside Max.

It was was a pretty obvious conversation starter, but Max was in a good mood, and decided to take the bait. She leaned against the brick wall and exhaled.

"Pretty good. It's a bit more country-ish than I usually go for, with all the twang and stuff, but the lyrics are, like... evocative, but not _totally_ obscure. Besides, it's nice to be at a show again, no matter who's playing."

"Yeah, for a while I was really freaked out about being in public like this but Kristen dragged me to a few and it kinda got me out of my shell a little."

Max chuckled. "Yeah, she has this way of press-ganging you into feeling better, even when you don't want to."

"Amen to that. Did she tell you how we met?"

"No?"

Beth laughed. "I had this awful Tinder profile, like hating myself and how I looked and... 'a real cry for help' she called it. The only matches I got were a couple guys that turned out to be really creepy, or just swiping right on everything. And then I match Kris and she just asks if I'm okay."

"That's totally her."

"Yeah, and it turned out that my new school was Roosevelt, so it worked out pretty good."

"That's cool. Did you just move here?"

"I grew up in Seattle, but I went to a different school 'til this fall. Long story."

"Okay." Max waited for Beth to keep going, but apparently "long story" was all she was willing to share in the matter.

 _Not like we don't have the time,_ Max thought. She didn't press, but she couldn't help but be reminded of how little she knew the girl she was standing next to.

 _All she knows about me is that I really need therapy._ It felt slightly unfair that Beth wasn't opening up, at least a little, after Max let her stay for the big teary confession. The conversation, perhaps the whole friendship, was going nowhere fast. If there even was a friendship to speak of. _Does friend-of-a-friend even mean anything, outside of Facebook?_

But Max decided to try again, perhaps with a topic less likely to lead to Feelings. Even finding one took some effort.

"How'd you end up doing curtains?" Max finally asked.

Beth smiled a little and leaned on the metal fence next to Max. "Pretty sure Kris managed that too, whispering in Alicia's ear."

Max laughed. "She must have a crush on you or something."

"Maybe, but she's totally not my type. I need somebody steady, grounded. Preferably male, but I've made exceptions once or twice." Beth flashed Max a half smile. "Kris is just all over the place. But I guess I don't mind being her project, a little."

Max shifted from the brick wall to the fence across from it, to get out of the way of a plume of cigarette smoke in the shifting breeze. As a bonus, it offered a better view of Beth, and easier eye contact.

"Did you ever do fly before this?" Max asked.

"Nope. Mr. Bell had to show me the ropes." Beth giggled slightly. "Like, literally show me the ropes. But it all made sense, and I'm good with mechanical stuff, so it's not that hard. Just keep the pipes flat and balanced, or maybe a little light, make sure everything's tightened to spec, and never touch the fuck-me nut. The hardest part is remembering all the stuff you're supposed to shout before you move linesets."

"Second electric flying in downstage!" Max laughed. "Yeah, I don't have the build for moving the electrics."

Beth certainly did. She was over six feet tall, with a physique that wouldn't be out of place hurling a 16 lb weight across a field.

"What did you even do then?" Beth asked. "I mean, they said you were on curtains..."

"I literally just flipped the switch to open and close main. I mean, I did cues and stuff too but they mostly liked having me around for set design, and 'cause I kinda knew what I was doing. Even if I couldn't actually do it half the time. Adrian did the heavy lifting but he graduated last summer so..." Max shrugged. "Glad they found someone to do it."

"It's good to have something to do," Beth responded. "Did Mr. Bell teach you everything too?"

"I helped my uncle out with set construction down in Tacoma a few times. Mostly just getting him the right tools, but the set designer there was good, and I got used to the whole thing."

Max felt a slight buzz from the depths of her messenger bag, and ignored it at first, but their conversation seemed to hit a lull at just that moment, and after a little hemming and hawing Max pulled her phone out.

 **Dana:** It looks like well be pushing it to 9AM tomorrow

 **Dana:** Does that work 4u?

Max didn't even want to think about how early her friends would have to wake up to get there at nine, but she appreciated the dedication. Even if it was a bit much.

 **Max:** You guys are crazy, but sure

 **Dana:** Awesome cu then!!

Max pulled a plastic water bottle out of her bag. There was hardly a gulp worth of water in it, but Max drew it to her mouth and sucked it dry, then shook it slightly to get the last few drops.

The cheap plastic bottle crinkled noisily, and Max felt a nudge in her side.

"Hey," Beth said, holding out her own water, "want some of mine?"

It wasn't an easy leap of faith, accepting the drink, but the air in the Croc was dry and Max was thirsty. _Plus I don't wanna freak Beth out like I did with Kristen._ So Max forced herself to pour a little into her mouth, careful not to touch the rim with her lips, and handed it back to Beth, who chugged from it ungracefully.

"Oh, hey, I wanted to ask you. Where the hell'd you get that awesome jacket?"

It took a second to fully register what Beth meant; Max was mostly a stranger to that sort of compliment. "I don't know!" She giggled nervously. "I mean, I got it at a thrift store, I don't even know who made it. Sorry!"

"Man, I never have that kind of luck. Wish _I_ could be a walking pride flag."

That particular implication of wearing a giant rainbow had somehow never even occurred to Max. "I didn't even get it for that, I just liked the look of it. Most people make bible jokes about it."

"Bible jokes?"

"Something about a coat of many colors?" Max shrugged.

Beth's face screwed up in confusion for a second, before breaking out into a grin. "Right! I've listened to the musical so many times sometimes I forget it's a bible story too."

"It's a musical?"

"Well yeah! _Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat_. It's like everybody's first musical; how could you get through four years of theater without hearing about it?"

"I... I don't know. I mean I think I've heard the name before but I just kinda ignored it as 'bible stuff'." Max shrugged, but smiled through it. "We can watch it sometime though. Right?"

"I have no idea where to find it on video, but I can definitely send you the soundtrack; that's basically the same thing."

There was a pause in the conversation, and looking at Beth lean against the fencepost Max felt something stir in her that was familiar but nearly forgotten. Something about the _right_ ness of what was in front of her, something that needed to be held onto. She could practically see a white square frame in front of her, drawing out a nice contrast with the dark street.

Pulling out the camera was second nature, and it was only as she was bringing it up to her face that she realized how long it had been. And more importantly, what it could mean.

_Wait, why did I just do that? Was it just to prove it to myself?_

The homework Dr. Taylor had assigned her had been hovering in the back of her mind all day, and photography was the only thing that had come to mind so far. It was something she wanted back alright, but it was something she wanted to be able to _enjoy_ , not something she had to force herself to do. She wondered for a moment why she'd pulled it out. _I'm not better already. Am I just trying pretend like I am, just like with the water?_

But the camera was already out, and all of this had crossed her mind _after_ she'd reached for it, so she figured it was fair enough.

Beth must have noticed Max pulling out the camera, but--luckily for Max--pretended she hadn't, and held the pose that had caught Max's eye, leaning over, elbows on the rail, looking off in the distance to the other side of the street.

Max captured the moment, and the click and whirr of her camera was satisfyingly familiar, even comforting. She leaned back onto the railing next to Beth, waving the photo back and forth in the air as it slowly faded into being. Beth's white belt showed up first, followed by her pink parka, then the lights behind her and finally her blue jeans.

The flash highlighted Beth and left most of the street in dark. The only background was the next traffic light, a few fuzzy street lamps, and windows off in the distance.

"I look pretty decent," Beth said, glancing at the photo then looking off across the street again. "They said you were good at photography. Guess they weren't joking."

"Yeah, I got a whole scholarship from it; that's why I went back to Arcadia Bay. Part of me wishes I hadn't now, but..."

They heard the faint thumping of the band starting a new song, something with a bit of a beat to it, something that made Max feel like she was done unwinding.

"You wanna head back inside?" Max asked.

"Sounds good," Beth answered. "Nice night though." She got up slowly from the railing, stretching slightly, as if she'd been there too long.

"Yeah, it is." The music thundered out the door as Max opened it, drowning out her words as she walked into the din with Beth close in tow.

 _It'd be nice to spend more time outside tonight_ , she thought. _But for now, back into the club to find the rest of my friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what's with Beth.
> 
> Writing is going slowly, perhaps because the next few chapters are tough, or perhaps because of life getting in the way--or maybe a combination of both. Whatever the cause, there's a chance I'll be taking another one-week break soon.


	92. Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the entire 20 months I've been writing this I've always had a buffer of at least two weeks worth of chapters complete and (more or less) ready to publish. Today marks the first chapter I've published without having the next one ready to go--it's close, but not done, and even if I finish it I don't want to push myself chapter by chapter. So unless I suddenly end up with a ton of inspiration, the next chapter will be up on August 24th.
> 
> On the upside I finally have a mostly-final chapter count. Barring major last-minute changes, there will be 100 chapters, plus an epilogue.

Dana, Kate and the entire gang arrived just before nine thirty on Saturday.

Dana wasn't lying about the van. Max was expecting a minivan and a small handful of friends but instead Dana double parked in front of Max's house in a full-size passenger van with "Tillamook Parish" stenciled on the side.

It was hard not to be at least a little touched. Max could see faces in all four rows of seats, and they were all here for Max.

More or less.

"Woooooo! Seattle!" Stella shouted from the passenger seat as the van pulled to a stop. After a few seconds of shouts and commotion in the back, the side door of the van slid open, and Max was face to face with Kate in the first row of seats, and Trevor and Alyssa in the second, with Warren and Brooke behind them, then Juliet, Taylor, and even the one guy whose name Max kept forgetting, sitting all the way in the back and probably not terribly happy with the seating arrangements.

Max was shocked that the van had enough seats for the lot of them, with a few to spare even. Not _comfortable_ seats, and Max shuddered at the thought of spending five hours in one, let alone waking up early enough to catch it, but luckily she'd only be sitting for the twenty minutes that it took to go downtown.

Even luckier, Kate had saved Max a seat right next to her in the first row.

Max clambered in to a chorus of cheers. Maybe some of that was because their five hour drive was finally over, but everyone Max could make eye contact with looked genuinely happy to see her, and she even got hugs from Kate and Alyssa. Stella tried to give Max a high five for 'beating the shit out of Courtney', and Max returned it timidly.

"So!" Dana said as she put the van in gear, hardly giving Max time to even buckle in. "Hope you're ready to hit the town! First stop is Pike Place market, there's a bunch of, like, crazy fish stalls and fruit and stuff."

Max didn't need to be told what it was, but she smiled as Dana kept explaining.

"Plus a zillion places to get Lunch, or brunch, or coffee or shit."

"Like the first Starbucks!" Warren shouted from the back.

Stella rolled her eyes. "It's just a fucking Starbucks. I wanna see the gum wall; I got a whole pack of Juicy Fruit in my pocket to add to it."

"Oh god," Taylor said, looking as if she were about to gag. "Why would you even-"

"You don't all have to do the same stuff," Dana interrupted, for what sounded like the third or fourth time. "Just be back to the meeting point by two."

"And then we'll check out the great wheel, right?" Brooke suggested.

"Holy shit no!" Alyssa exclaimed. "The Space Needle's bad enough, I'm not gonna be hanging from some little cable on that thing."

The van erupted into a friendly but loud debate. Max was pretty sure it was pointless; the wheel was like a five minute walk from the market; you could be there and back before the deadline, with plenty of time left to see the market and have lunch. But Max was seated right in the middle of it all and everyone shouted past her.

Fortunately Dana was the one driving, and she seemed to have a good plan, and enough sense to stick to it. As the argument died down and the van sped down 99 toward the downtown Max found herself the center of attention.

"So, how did it feel to beat the fuck out of Courtney?" Stella asked.

Max lowered her eyes a little. "Not all that great."

"Not even a little?" Warren asked from the seat behind.

A few other voices joined in:

"Come on, she totally deserved it!" Max heard from somewhere further back in the van.

"At least tell me you enjoyed it," Stella said.

"You don't hafta pretend it wasn't fun."

Max couldn't even tell who was talking half the time, and she had to shout to get everyone to shut up.

"Stop! She was- She was shouting at me; I was basically having a panic attack. I didn't enjoy it. Even if she deserved it, I'm not proud of it."

"You should be," Taylor said from all the way in the back. "She was being a total bitch and you put her right in her place."

Max shook her head. "I just got myself in trouble. I wasn't thinking straight, anymore than I was the last time I had a flashback."

The entire van went quiet at Max's use of the F-word. Kate jumped to her defense belatedly: "Leave Max alone! This is supposed to be a fun trip." It probably wasn't necessary, but Max appreciated it anyways.

"Yeah, um..." Max searched for a new topic. "Where are we going after the market?" 

Luckily instead of letting everyone dredge their last argument back up Dana answered definitively for the whole group.

"Kahooley glass garden. All the blogs and stuff say it's awesome."

Max's mom had dragged her there more than a few times, and it _was_ pretty nice, even if it wasn't pronounced that way.

"Oh, that's cool," Max said. "Chihuly's really pretty, and it's not too cold out so that'll be fun."

"Yeah," Dana said. "Then we got a group ticket to go up the needle, just before sunset."

Max smiled. "That's a... pretty good plan."

It was basically all the top Seattle tourist cliches. But, Max reminded herself, most of the girls in the car _were_ tourists, and she was happy to go along with them and absorb their joy osmotically. Besides, for all the times she'd seen the Chihuly Gardens she'd only gone to the top of the Space Needle once, and never at night, let alone at sunset.

"I mean, you and Julet are the only ones who've been here at all, so I hope you don't mind if we just hit the obvious spots."

"No, that's totally cool. Is there... anyone else coming?" Max said, remembering one more name Dana mentioned.

Dana smiled. "Your girlfriend is meeting us at the market for a bit." Loud enough that the whole van could hear.

 _Oh._ Max blinked.

_Yeah, that's a thing now._

She finally managed to shut her gaping mouth and collect herself.

"G-Great!"

And after a few seconds of getting used to the idea, she smiled giddily. It _was_ great being out, being able to say it all in public like it was no big deal.

Even if it might take some getting used to.

* * *

The van just barely passed under the 'max height' sign at the garage entrance, and actually pulling into a spot was an ordeal almost as big as the van itself.

Dana shut off the engine and turned to address the back seats:

"Before I let you guys out: You all got phones, you all know how to read maps. Two o'clock, right back here at the van. Set an alarm or something if you need to. Don't make me call you. Now get outta here!"

The rest of the van didn't need to be told twice.

Rather than contribute to the traffic jam at the sliding door, Max relaxed in her seat next to Kate until they and Dana were the only ones left in the van. Kate followed Max in her leisurely stroll from the van to the sky bridge, just as expected. Max figured Dana would hurry past them to catch up with the rest of the pack but soon after the 'chirp' of the van locking she heard footsteps on the metal stairs behind them and a gentle "Hey."

"God you must be super tired," Max said by way of a hello.

"Eh, I'm running on like three red bulls." Dana followed Max up the stairs toward the skywalk. "I'll probably crash when we get to the glass thing but I'm good for now."

"I'm sure you're not the only one," Kate said. "We all told ourselves we'd sleep on the drive up, and then we talked the whole way."

"Yeah." Dana sighed. "I figure if I get a nap in somewhere I can handle the trip back."

Max got a mental image of all ten of them sprawled around her living room floor and asked warily: "You're leaving at like seven, right?"

Unfortunately Dana's bag buzzed halfway through the question, and instead of answering she pulled out her phone, and squinted at it. "Victoria says to meet her at Rachel? I assume you know where _she_ is?"

Max smiled. Her memory of the market was a little thin, but she knew that name. "Rachel's a pig statue with a coin slot," she explained, "right under the giant 'MARKET' sign. We should be pretty close."

"I think I'm gonna go meet up with Alyssa," Kate announced, unprompted.

It felt out of the blue, but after a few puzzled seconds Max realized why Kate was ditching them.

"Oh, right. Sure. I'm... I'm sorry, Kate. I promise we'll spend some time together, sometime today. Okay?"

"Don't worry about it." Kate forced a smile. "Have fun with Victoria." She stood off to the side of the stairs and pulled out her phone to arrange the meet, while Dana and Max walked on.

"Shit," Dana said as they crossed the skywalk. "I didn't know shit was still weird with them. Should I have like, not invited her?"

"I don't know," Max said, pausing at the end of the skywalk, just before the doors. "Victoria feels awful about everything, but Kate still feels nervous around her. But, you know... it's a big city, I'm sure they can avoid eachother for one day."

The market air, and the din, hit them as they pushed open the doors. The market was another place Max could recognize by smell alone; fresh cut flowers and spices and donuts frying and of course the omnipresent smell of fish, a hundred years worth of it permeating the streets and the arcades and reminding Max slightly of the docks near her childhood home. 

All around them people were talking, shouting, buying, selling. It was so loud Max had to practically yell "follow me" to Dana behind her.

Max pushed her way past stalls piled high with jellies and jams, through throngs of other shoppers and tourists, and through the doors to the street, where she stood, trying to get her bearings. At least there it was quiet enough for her to think.

The battered cod at Jack's in in front of her was tempting, but Max had a pig to find, and a girlfriend to meet. As she looked up and down the street it started to sink in that that wouldn't be quite as easy as she'd assumed.

It wasn't as if she hadn't been there before, but it had always been following, and without having to think about where she was going she'd never quite gotten the hang of the place. Now Dana was following _her_ , and Max was as lost in this market as she was in most social situations. If she didn't pick a direction soon it might damage her image as an in-the-know local, and if she whipped out her phone the illusion would be fully shattered. So instead Max looked for familiar landmarks, connected with memories, and tried not to look as lost as she felt.

She spotted a big neon "PUBLIC MARKET" mounted above the roof to their right soon enough, but it wasn't quite how Max remembered it. Some vague voice in her mind, perhaps some memory or instinct from ages past told her to go the other way, and Max seized on it.

"Is it always this busy?" Dana as she hurried to catch up.

"Pretty much," Max answered, sounding as authoritative as she could. "Usually it's worse. Like, on a really nice day in July you can't see the bricks in the street there's so many people. And half the time there's a bunch of vendors right on the curb."

A block later Max was glad to find that the voice in her head knew the way better than she did. There were _two_ signs, and the pig was under the one that said "PUBLIC MARKET  CENTER" and had a clock on it. _'cause that's not confusing at all,_ Max thought as she hurried out of the way of an SUV going a bit faster than it should past the bunches of pedestrians on the street.

_Why the hell do they even allow cars here?_

"Oh, that reminds me." Max turned to Dana as she made a beeline toward the right sign. "Did you need me to chip in for parking or anything? Or the tickets for the other stuff?"

"Eh, don't worry. I got it all covered."

Max smiled sheepishly. "This is really awesome of you. Seriously, I don't know how to say thanks. For everything."

"Don't worry about it," Dana said. "I'm sure you'd do the same for a friend."

Max looked down at the damp pavement. "Not really."

There was no way Dana knew how sore a subject that was, but it must've been easy enough to guess from the way Max answered.

"No! You're a really sweet person, Max. I'm sure you'd step up."

"I know I wouldn't. I had a chance to and... I blew it. With Chloe I mean."

Max struggled to remember exactly how much of this story she'd already told Dana. So far her expression was more curious than understanding, so Max kept going. "I left her all alone down in Arcadia Bay when I moved to Seattle; I didn't visit her once in five years, even though I knew she just lost her dad. I barely even texted. And she was just spiraling down and I kept feeling guilty about it but... I never picked up the phone. Not once. And you're all, like, reaching out to me and being wonderful and meanwhile I'm wondering if I'm even gonna go back."

"What do you mean?" Dana asked.

"Like, maybe I'd be better off quitting Blackwell and staying here. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Things are easier up here, with my parents and all my old friends. And there's a lot of bad memories there, but then everyone's at Blackwell's so nice; I don't want to let them down."

Dana put a hand on Max's shoulder and bent her knees slightly so that they were eye-to-eye. "Hey, don't worry about it. I mean, yeah, most of the people are pretty nice, but we barely got to know you before all that shit happened. You lived here for years; I get it if you're cozier up here."

"Yeah, my friends here've been great. And my parents. And I even found a therapist that... I mean we only had one appointment so far but I think I like her and-"

Dana went from paying close attention to Max's confession to waving at a figure in the distance.

Victoria was leaning against a green roof pillar, half-obstructing a series of 'No Parking' and 'Load and Unload Only' signs and holding a cigarette to her lips. She looked nervously off into the distance, up Pike Street, then down Pike Place towards Max and Dana.

Just before Max started wondering how Victoria could be staring right at them and not notice them their eyes connected, and Victoria broke into a giddy smile and a run in their direction.

It was as if their last conversation hadn't happened when they ran into eachother's arms.

Then Victoria planted a big fat kiss, right on Max's lips, right in front of Dana and the entire marketplace.

It wasn't what Max expected, and she didn't lean into it like she should have. Victoria broke it off and pulled back uneasily as Max dissolved into a puddle of nerves and hormones.

Max looked down, then realized she was staring at Victoria's chest and looked back up, smiling.

"Sorry... not used to being, you know... public." Max screwed up her courage and returned the kiss, drawing it out for as long as she could to make up for her hesitation on the last one. As delicious and distracting as the kiss was, halfway through it occurred to Max to wonder what Dana thought of the whole display. Or what the rest of Pike Place thought for that matter.

Max held Victoria tighter. _Whatever. Let them watch._

Kissing in public sure was something.

But it was something Max could get used to. With practice.

Lots and lots of practice.

Max finally inhaled, catching a deep whiff of the cigarette smoke. _Chloe's cigarettes_. It didn't matter that Victoria was still holding a lit one in her hand, that smell would always belong to Chloe Price, and her busted-ass truck, and her junkyard.

Max broke the kiss off.

Victoria smiled at her, and Max kept her face as even as she could, pushing her way through the memories, until she was back on Pike Place, standing next to her friend Dana and her real, _living_ girlfriend.

Instead of noticing Max's struggle, Victoria got right to business:

"You hungry?"

The Blackwell cafeteria wasn't open at 4AM, so Dana was probably starving. Max had just eaten a bagel but could fit more if necessary, and splitting from her friends was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Hell yeah! How about Jack's? I love their fish and chips."

Victoria frowned. "Do they have anything vegetarian? Other than the tartar sauce?"

"Uh..." If they did, Max had never bothered with it. She tried to recall the whiteboards above the counter, searching for anything that didn't start with "fresh caught" and came up empty.

"Not really. Why?"

Dana cut in: "She doesn't eat meat!"

"What?" Max looked at her girlfriend, searching for some sign that Dana was wrong, or maybe just joking. 

Victoria just nodded in confirmation.

"Why?"

More importantly, _why the hell does Dana know this and not me?_

"Saving the fucking baby seals and shit." Victoria looked annoyed that she even had to explain. 

"Oh." Max had met plenty of vegetarians, and Victoria resembled exactly none of them. "No meat at all?"

Victoria rolled her eyes melodramatically. "That's what 'Vegetarian' means."

Max knew _that_. It just didn't sound much like the Victoria Max had been dating for two weeks.

"Okay. I just never thought about it I guess." But as all the times she'd seen Victoria go for the one dish on the menu that didn't have any meat ran through Max's head, she wondered how she hadn't made the connection until now.

"What's there to think about. I don't eat meat. Big fucking deal. There's a million places that aren't your stupid fish market. Hell, Matt's is literally right across the street."

It was, and Max had heard good things about it, but never actually been. As soon as she saw the menu she understood why.

_Sixteen bucks for a tuna sandwich?_

But the time to object was a few minutes ago at the door, not now, seated at the bar right between Dana and Victoria. Max glanced to her right, but Dana didn't seem phased by the prices.

Victoria didn't even bother looking at the menu. The first chance she got, she put in an order for a cheese plate and an endive salad. Max resisted the temptation to look up the prices for those and focused on the sandwich section.

Luckily the cheapest item there--a fifteen dollar pulled pork sandwich--didn't sound bad, and Max ordered it the next time the waiter passed by. Dana went for that sixteen dollar tuna sandwich.

That out of the way, Max nervously tried a conversation starter. "So, uh... how's Blackwell been? Now that you're back."

Victoria sipped on her glass of water, then pulled the lemon from the rim and squeezed it into the drink. "Basically the same. I mean, I only missed a day. Feels weird seeing your desk empty in class, though."

"It feels weird not being there. I mean..." Max glanced at back at Dana to see if she was following the conversation. "I know I skipped a lot but now I'm not even on campus. Mrs. Hoida sent me a few things but other than that I have no idea what's going on."

"You haven't missed much," Dana said, and Max turned to face her, already regretting having agreed to sit at the bar rather than wait ten minutes for a table.

"Mrs. Newton gave us another quiz," she continued, "and we watched Kiss Kiss Bang Bang for media appreciation. It was fun, even if they made us write essays about it afterwards."

"Oh. That's good. How about, uh..." Max turned to Victoria. "How about photography?"

"Shit as usual," Victoria groused. "Mrs. Cameron can't tell art from a urinal on its side. She's teaching us how to do touch-up in _Photoshop_ now, as if we haven't been using it longer than she has."

"That sucks. At least it's easy though, right?"

"Yeah, and she grades easy as shit. That's basically her only saving feature. Whole class is fucking worthless."

"Yeah," Dana jumped in. "Kate said some shit on the way up. She _says_ the class is going fine, but you can kinda tell she's just being nice. I wouldn't blame you if you don't go back."

Max could see Victoria freeze mid-bite, out of the corner of her eye. Max froze too, for a slightly different reason.

"You're really thinking about dropping out?" Victoria finally asked, loudly enough to earn a look from the bartender, and perhaps glances from a few of the other customers who dotted the bar and tables behind them.

Max hadn't been planning to tell her like this. Hadn't been planning to tell her at all until she'd made the decision.

"I- I don't know. Probably not. But my mom was talking about, like, night classes and GED stuff and... I dunno. I guess it's possible."

Victoria's face soured.

"Well, we'll miss you, if you do," Dana said, not noticing Victoria glowering on Max's other side. "But you gotta do what's best for yourself."

"Yeah, I guess." Max felt caught between Dana's cheeriness and Victoria's scowl. _Why the hell did I have to pick the middle seat?_

"Anyways," Dana continued, "what have _you_ been up to?"

"Oh, uh. Not a lot. Friends, therapy... getting back into a normal sleep schedule. My mom cut me off of Netflix so I started reading again."

"Anything good?" Dana asked, fidgeting slightly--perhaps from the caffiene.

Max had an answer right away: "You know that book Mrs. Hoida assigned, _Bean Trees_? I got a copy from the Fremont library and I really liked it, so I found another one by the same author. It's called _Flight Behavior_ and it's just... beautifully written, and this mix of small town life and poverty, but it's also about climate change." Max remembered who she was talking to, and as she looked to her sides she failed to see much interest from Dana or Victoria. "It's better than it sounds, I swear."

"Figures you'd like her stuff," Victoria said, just a little derisively. "It's like..." Her tone softened as she took a deep breath. "It's like the embodiment of how you take photos. Like, you look at people and you really try to see them. Plus you have this thing for wildlife."

"We talked about her in class," Dana said. "The author I mean. I think someone said she's a biology major, so that makes sense."

"It makes total sense," Max said. "She goes into these crazy details about migration and scientific equipment and entomology and lipids like it's no big thing."

"Yeah, maybe I'll check it out," Dana said, a little too quickly. "Uh... is there a restroom here?" She _did_ have a slightly urgent look about her. Or maybe she just noticed that Victoria wanted some time alone with Max. "Too much Red Bull," she explained.

She failed to notice how much Max didn't want to be alone with Victoria. But it wasn't as if Max could say 'Wait don't pee yet'; instead she just watched Dana head off in the direction Victoria pointed, until the two of them were alone in the busy restaurant.

"So you're leaving," Victoria said under her breath, glowering at the bar and occasionally glancing up at Max.

Max didn't even try to make eye contact. "I told you, I don't know."

"You told me you'd try to come back."

Max _had_ said that. She ran her finger idly along the rim of her newly-arrived ice water. "I'm still trying. I haven't decided anything yet. I just... know what my options are."

"And one of them is to leave me alone down there?"

Max could hear the bitterness in Victoria's voice, and was suddenly glad they were having this conversation in public. _At least she won't want to make a scene here. Right?_

"I'm not trying to abandon you. Besides, you're not alone."

"Sure fucking feels like it. Half the school hates me because I've been a bitch to them for the past two years, and the other half hates me 'cause I'm not a bitch anymore."

"What about Taylor? And I bet Dana would come around if you really tried talking to her."

"Maybe, but I can't talk to them about... you know... seeing stuff. You're the only one I can say that to."

"I didn't know I was _that_ important to-"

"You literally talked me out of killing myself," Victoria spat. "You gave me some kind of hope for the future."

Max took a deep breath, which gave her time to consider how to phrase her thoughts. "I'm glad I could help you. But I can't be the only thing keeping you afloat. That's... not good."

"What about the part where you said we'd go to college together and everything?"

"I didn't say _together_. At least I don't think I did."

"That's how I pictured it though. You and me. You don't know how much that's gotten me through."

"I'm sorry, I really am, but Dana's right. I need to make this decision for me. Not for you, or for our relationship. Honestly if it wasn't for you I might've withdrawn already."

"Whatever," Victoria said, and looked around the bar until a waiter came with their sandwiches.

Dana returned just in time to see the food arrive, and they ate contentedly, with Dana recounting minor Blackwell shenanigans and Max smiling and nodding, her mouth full of pork. Victoria picked at her salad slowly, finishing last while Max and Dana talked about the drive up.

Finally Victoria pulled out her wallet and slapped a $50 on the bar. "I'll see you guys later," she said as she got off the stool and turned to exit.

Max jumped up to follow her. "Wait, you're leaving? We didn't even do anything yet."

Victoria turned around and leaned over to give Max a gentle peck on the forehead. "I gotta go home. I got shit to get ready for."

"Wait..." Max put a hand on Victoria's shoulder. "Are you okay? Do you need me to come with you?"

"If I said I wasn't, would you?" Victoria asked quietly, looking at the floor.

Max glanced over her shoulder to make sure Dana wasn't listening. "Yeah. I mean, I don't wanna bail on everyone else, but they're already off doing their own things. They won't even notice until they go back to the van."

Victoria sighed. "That's sweet of you. But I'm actually okay. Not like I'm not upset, but I think I can handle this. I was gonna act like I couldn't, see if I could guilt you into dropping everything and making me feel better but... then I wouldn't deserve a girlfriend who'd drop everything to make me feel better."

Max looked at Victoria hesitantly. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Go, have fun. I gotta be at the Chase Space in like an hour for this new artist showcase thing. But I'll see you tomorrow too, if you like.

Max reached up to give Victoria one last hug and a peck on the lips. "Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow!"

She watched her girlfriend walk down Pike St. for a few seconds, then turned to Dana. "What next?"

Dana looked up from her phone to answer: "Jules and Tay just found this massage place on Yelp." She smiled. "You ready?"

Max took a second to picture it, but the thought of some stranger's hands all over her made her stomach turn over a little. Besides, after a twenty dollar lunch there probably wasn't any kind of massage she could even afford.

"I think I'll sit that one out? It's not really my thing."

"Oh, sorry!" Dana looked a bit more apologetic than was really necessary. "I didn't even think. We can find something else; I'll tell 'em-"

"No, it's fine," Max interrupted. "You go ahead. I know my way around; I'll just text someone else and meet up."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Besides, I promised Kate I'd meet up with her later. I wonder what she's up to..."


	93. Taste

There was something gorgeous in the way the glass danced around the landscape, curling around themselves or shooting out of the ground like spears. When the sun saw fit to peer it's way through the clouds it glanced off of them, revealing their perfect shine as well as making them glow even more brilliantly than usual.

At least in theory. To Max, all the pretty shapes and colors were mostly old-hat. Her mother had dragged her to the Chihuly Garden too many times to count, and it wasn't quite to Max's taste in the first place. The map handout was familiar too, suggesting that nothing had changed since her last visit in August, and halfway through the garden she'd given up on seeing anything interesting.

Luckily Kate wasn't so jaded yet. Watching her gaze in wonder at the shapes and the colors was almost as good as enjoying them herself for the first time. Most of their friends had crashed _hard_ after hitting the market and were currently napping in the van, so Max had Kate all to herself for at least the next hour and a half, and Kate had already taken enough photos to cover a wall of her dorm room. She'd even managed to get Max in a few of them.

"It's a good thing that doesn't use film," Max teased. "You'd've already run out."

"Some people _like_ being able to take as many photos as they want," Kate said pointedly, but couldn't help but show a little smile.

"Fair enough." From the entire day, Max had exactly two Polaroids in her bag: One of Stella pressing a piece of chewing gum to a wall already covered in it, and one of an oddly happy turnip, sitting on the market sidewalk but propped up slightly against a curb. There had been other opportunities, but nothing quote so worthy as those moments. "It kinda makes it more special, though. Just taking ones you really _need_ to."

"You never know beforehand, though," Kate said as she aimed her camera at a giant glass birdbath and pressed the shutter. "At least I don't. But I guess you always had a different eye than mine. I never really understood how, but you get some amazing shots."

Photography was a safe enough topic. Max hadn't missed too much of the class recently--current suspension aside--and it was still something she could talk about endlessly.

"I used to think about it a lot," Max said, "but the more I thought about it, the worse they came out. Nowadays I just do it by feel. For some people, that's what works best. Or some do better the more thought they put into it."

"Victoria said something like that in class last week."

Max felt the muscles in her chest tighten slightly at the name, but Kate continued.

"Like, how sometimes she's in the right frame of mind and photos just come to her, and sometimes she has to think about it a lot."

Their conversation had conspicuously avoided any talk of Victoria until now. She certainly wouldn't have brought it up herself, but if Kate mentioned it then... _maybe it's not a total minefield of a topic?_

"Has she been doing okay?" Max could almost see Kate tense up at the question. "Sorry. Forget I asked."

"No," Kate objected weakly. "It's okay. She's just been kind of quiet in class, even more than she was before you left. She still hasn't tried to talk to me, and I don't talk to her."

"Can't really blame you for that. But she hasn't really texted me much either, since she went back."

"Are things not going well?" Kate sounded genuinely concerned, even though she had every right to say 'I told you so'.

"I think it's just weird cause I told her she had to go back to Blackwell."

"Wasn't she going to?"

Max shook her head. "After I got suspended, and her whole thing at the party, she wanted to stay up in Seattle with me."

"That's kind of sweet of her. Is that why she was out on Tuesday?"

"Yeah, I had to talk her out of quitting school and everything. And I mean, I guess it was sweet, but it's, like... too much. She shouldn't be sabotaging her future 'cause of me. Even if I'm, like..." _not coming back to Blackwell,_ Max decided not to say. "I still miss her though. It was nice having her just across the hall, even if we had to hide things."

Kate paused for a long time, then finally looked toward the ground and asked: "You and Victoria... How do you... you know... do stuff"

"What stuff?" Max asked, and then realized the answer when she saw how beet-red Kate's face was turning. "Oh! We just kissed a few times. Nothing else." She wondered if she should be offended. _Does she really think I would've slept with her already?_

"Oh." Kate looked extremely relieved to hear it. "Okay."

That seemed to satisfy Kate's curiosity, but a few minutes later Max caught Kate glancing nervously in her direction again, as if there were still questions on her mind.

_Oh god please don't ask how lesbians do it._

"How..." Kate turned red again as she struggled to formulate her question.

Max winced, but tried to hide it with a gentle smile. _I'm gonna be giving Kate a Sex Talk, aren't I._

"I'm not clueless," Kate finally began. "I know how sex works. Normally, I mean. But how do two _girls_... do stuff?"

Spears of glass jutted out from the flower beds around them, and Max wondered if she could avoid this conversation by impaling herself on them. _Maybe I should tell her to google it_ , Max thought, then pictured what the poor girl might find, and thought better of it. _There's no way that would end well_.

Max had no options left, then, but to be open and honest. "There's... there's all sorts of ways that girls can... enjoy eachother." Max was briefly proud of that euphemism. "Like, just using hands, or toys, or..." She struggled to say the last word, and struggled even more to make it not sound like she was struggling, "...oral?"

After a moment to gather Max's meaning, Kate's eyes went wide. "Oh, ew! Sorry. I know you're my friend and... please don't take this the wrong way but I don't understand how you can look at Victoria and want to do... _that_ with her. It's just... gross."

"I don't necessarily want to," Max said, a little too quickly. It was technically true. If she'd truly wanted it would have happened already--she'd had plenty of chances. But after more than a few fantasies, saying she 'didn't want to' felt like a lie. More importantly, it felt like a kind of denial, one that settled wrong in her stomach.

"I mean..." Max searched for a comfortable medium, something in between 'I want to stick my tongue in Victoria' and 'I'm not really bi after all', and finally settled on an analogy: "Would you want to have sex with a boy after the second date?"

Kate shook her head emphatically _no_.

"But, like, in general, some day. Right?"

Kate looked skeptical, but nodded. "Maybe? I guess that makes sense, I just... don't even want to think about you doing that sort of stuff."

"Well that's 'cause you're straight. Nothing wrong with that."

"I'm..." Kate took a deep breath. "I'm not so sure..."

Max nearly stopped dead in her tracks. "What do you mean?" she asked, with as casual a tone as she could manage.

"I was going through some of my old posters over Christmas and it was all the bands I liked, or movies. All the boys in them... I had crushes on most of them. I'd imagine them taking me on dates, or look up photos of them in swimsuits, but now it's just _not there_ anymore. And I'm wondering if it's cause of... him."

The path branched, and Kate eyed the path towards the enclosed parts of the garden. The greenhouse _would_ be nice and warm on a day like this, but Max remembered how conversations would echo across the hard surfaces, and steered them the other way.

"It's normal for your tastes to change over time. I mean, I've had boy band crushes that I'm too embarrassed to even admit to now. And maybe something like that can change how you feel for a while, but it doesn't change who you _are_."

"But it changed _you_. Didn't it?"

Max paused in thought for a moment, as they strolled gently past a spire of lime-green glass. "I don't think it changed me, more like the whole week with Chloe made me acknowledge something that was always there."

"You mean you always liked girls?"

"I don't know, I just..." Max found herself borrowing a page from Victoria's book, of all things: "I never _didn't_ like them. Like, I grew up with friends that were boys _and_ girls, and everyone says that your feelings change when you get older, but they didn't for me. And I never realized what that meant 'til the first time I kissed Chloe, and I started to think maybe the whole 'girl meets boy' thing that society shoves down our throats wasn't the only option."

"I wish that felt like an option. Now I look at boys and I wonder, _what if he's like Mr. Jefferson_. But I guess I'm not like you either. Maybe I should just start adopting more rabbits," Kate finished with just a little bitterness.

"It doesn't mean you should give up," Max said as reassuringly as she could. "It can take time to figure out what you want. Maybe you just need to find a boy you can really trust."

"Maybe." Kate finally flashed Max a gentle smile. "Thanks for talking about this. I don't really have anyone I can tell it to."

"Of course." Max smiled at Kate, then remembered: "Wait, aren't you seeing Miss Gibson anymore?"

"I am, but I can't talk to her about _this_."

Max's eyes narrowed in concern. "Why not?"

"She might tell somebody!" Kate looked truly terrified at the thought.

"That'd be awful of her! Plus I'm pretty sure it's, like, against ethics rules."

"Really?" Kate slowed to admire a few impossibly large flowers, that gleamed in the January sun in a way regular flowers never did. "I'm not sure I can risk it though. My family would disown me if they heard I was even thinking about this."

"Wait, did Miss Gibson, like, do something to make you not trust her?"

"Not really. I mean, I've asked her about the other girls once or twice, and she didn't say a single thing. It took some convincing to even get her to pass on my email address to set up the group."

"But you still aren't really comfortable with telling her?"

"I guess it's kind of stupid..."

Max was about to agree, but Kate looked like she was about to say more, and it wouldn't do to shame her out of it.

"Back in fifth grade I told Pastor Damien about my first crush," Kate finally said. "I _thought_ it was in confidence, but all of a sudden my parents didn't let me hang out with him anymore."

_Ah_. The piece clicked into place and the whole conversation made much more sense. "You think he told them?"

"I know he did. I asked him a few years later and he said he thought I 'needed a little help staying on the right path'."

"That's..." Max weighed the risk of speaking ill of Kate's pastor, and decided the man had earned at least a little scorn. "That's bullshit! It's like, a violation of trust. Aren't ministers supposed to keep confessions secret?"

"Confession's just for Catholics. It wasn't quite as formal in my old church. And I don't think he was a licensed therapist either."

"Real therapists have real privacy rules," Max said, as confidently as she could. "Like, they can tell people if you're molesting somebody, or planning to kill someone, but you're 18. If Miss Gibson told your parents about your personal stuff she'd lose her license or something."

"Really?" Kate said hopefully.

"There are laws about it, and ethics rules and medical boards and everything. I told mine I smoke pot. I know she hasn't told my parents. If she had Mom would've grounded me for like, a decade." Max gave Kate a sideways smile.

Kate looked like she was about to return it, but then she smiled past Max, toward the rest of the garden, and spoke loudly: "Daniel!"

Max wasn't expecting to see a familiar face when she glanced in the same direction.

_Shit,_ that's _his name. Daniel. Daniel Daniel Daniel._

He hurried around the bend to walk alongside them, and as they approached a split Max finally decided to guide the group towards the indoor sections of the gallery.

"How've you been, Daniel?" Max asked, hoping that using his name might help her actually remember it this time.

"Pretty good!" he answered. "There was this really cool store at the market, and I finally got a new umbrella."

He pulled it out of his bag, deep blue with speckled greens and yellows of Van Gogh.

Max recognized immediately. "Awesome. That was from The Soap Box wasn't it?"

He nodded sheepishly.

"I love that place," Max said. "It always smells amazing. Wish I got a chance to stop by today."

Daniel smiled. "Yeah, it was neat seeing all the stuff there." 

"I always wanted one of the stained glass ones, but _Starry Night_ 's pretty cool. And their soaps are the best."

Daniel shrugged slightly. "Yeah. Hey, Kate, did you turn in anything for the Art Without Borders contest?"

Kate's usual gentle smile brightened, as it always did when the subject of her drawings came up. "I've been trying out the colored pencils my dad got me, but I don't have anything ready yet. It's due Wednesday isn't it?"

"The rules said Wednesday at noon, but I think Mrs. Powell wants it in on Tuesday."

Kate laughed nervously. "I guess I'd better get started then."

 

They wandered their way back toward the parking spot, and as the conversation drifted through favorite illustrators, favorite styles, and the merits of graphite vs pencil, Max felt increasingly like a third wheel. The sun hung low in the sky, and gave the white glass globes around them a purplish tint as the afternoon wore on. They arrived at the van just as Dana was waking up, gathering the gang and a second wind for the last item on their agenda.

Dana had timed the tickets perfectly. At ground level the sun had sunk just below the skyline, but as the elevator rose they got one last look at it, shining through the elevator windows right into their eyes for the short ascent, and again when they pushed their way through the doors to the observation deck.

The last time Max had been to the top it had been easy to enjoy the view. Now the first thing she noticed was how the safety fence curved all the way up and over the deck. _So people can't jump_ , Max realized uncomfortably. _Like I need another reminder of how messed up I am._ But the thought passed quickly, and Kate soon joined Max at the rail, saying nothing except in her glances at Max.

"It's really pretty isn't it." Max didn't bother to inflect it as if it were a question.

"It is." Kate smiled and held her hand out to shield her eyes from the sun. "I remember the photo you sent over Thanksgiving. It looked so wonderful, with the lights, and all the buildings in the background."

Max laughed. "Well, from up here you'll get to see all that _except_ for the space needle itself. 'cause, you know..."

"We're on it," Kate finished.

Max smiled. "Yeah. But the rest of it's pretty at night too. Like, the market's down there by the wheel. You can't really see the market sign from here, but the wheel's gonna light up in a second; it's got LEDs all over it so they can do all sorts of colors."

Kate looked further West and shielded her eyes with her palm. "What about that big lake there? I thought it was the ocean, but now that I'm up here I can see the Cascades behind it."

"It's the Puget Sound, and those aren't the Cascades, they're the Olympic Mountains. The Cascades are the other way, you can kinda see them if you look way over on the left."

Kate looked in the direction Max gestured, craning her neck to see Mt. Rainier, shrouded in sunset-drenched clouds and just barely visible from their spot on the deck. "Have you ever climbed any of them?"

"No!" Max laughed. "Not, like, to the top. Just a few paths around the woods once or twice with Fernando."

"How long did you live here?"

"Like five years. Hey, I can show you where my house is."

Kate smiled as warmly as the sun set behind her. "I'd like that."

 

The last few rays of the sun turned Mt. Olympus and the clouds that surrounded it into silhouettes in front of an orange sky. That, too, faded soon enough, leaving the city finally in dark. Max was enjoying a moment alone while the last few vestiges of light disappeared over the horizon, when Brooke joined her on the bench.

"Hey, Max. Nice night."

Part of Max wished that Brooke had asked if it was okay before sitting down, but... _no, she's a friend. You should be glad she's here._

"Yeah," Max answered. "Usually it's cloudier than this, but we got lucky today."

There was a pregnant pause as they both looked out into the night.

Finally Brooke asked "Are you... okay?"

"Yeah," Max answered reflexively. "I'm good."

"Good. Sorry, I've just been worrying a lot."

Now _Max_ was concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Kind of." Brooke sighed and stared off towards Fremont for quite a while. "My aunt tried to kill herself last weekend," she said suddenly. "Took a whole bottle of sleeping pills and sat down on the couch. I didn't hear about it til Dad called me from the hospital on Tuesday."

"I'm sorry." Even as Max said it she remembered how empty it felt to hear it, but _What else can I say?_

"I had some idea she was in a rough spot but I had no idea it was that bad. All week I was kicking myself, wishing I'd known so I could've helped. Then in the van I realized you were all depressed and messed up too, and I knew it, and I didn't do shit except yell at you."

"It's okay," Max said, not sure if she was in the mood to comfort Brooke but doing it anyways. "I wasn't exactly in the mood to be helped, back then. I'm seeing a therapist now so... things are working out."

"Yeah, but I should've made you get help, _before_ you got yourself suspended."

Max gave it a moment's thought and decided she was glad that Brooke had left her alone. "It wouldn't have done much good. Besides, I was pretty good at hiding it."

Brooke snorted. "No you weren't. I saw your room twice, and it might as well have had the word 'depression' spray-painted all over the walls. And you missed like five weeks of media appreciation class. I mean who misses _media appreciation_?"

Max lowered her eyes to look at the viewing platform.

Brooke paused and glanced out at the streetlamps of Queen Anne, then answered her own question: "Somebody who needs help. But I just kept telling myself that you'd be fine, that somebody else'd take care of you."

"Somebody else did. A couple people. Kate was always there for me, and there was Dana and my parents, and some of my friends up here too. Even Victoria."

"I shoulda been there too, though."

Max smiled as gently as she could. "Don't worry about it. I'll be okay." If Brooke just needed some kind of exoneration Max was happy to give it, as long as it would end this line of conversation soon.

"That's good. I mean... I'm sorry about all the shit you went through. After everything blew up I was thinking 'what if Mr. Jefferson got _me_ ' and... I can't imagine how bad you and Kate have it."

"I'm..." Max paused long enough to wonder whether Brooke knew, and if so how, but decided it didn't matter. "It sucks, yeah. But I'm trying not to dwell on it. You know?"

"I guess?"

"Like, bad stuff happened and you could obsess about it forever or you could learn from it. Maybe the next time you see somebody who needs help you'll be ready."

"Yeah." It wasn't easy to see in the dim light, but Brooke finally cracked a smile. "I can do that."

"Is your aunt okay now?" Max asked, because she knew she should.

"Wha? Oh, yeah. Dad said she will be."

"That's good. Thanks for coming to visit. It means a lot."

"It was fun," Brooke answered. "Not like that's the only reason I came," she added quickly, "but you know..."

Max glanced at Brooke with a slight smile. "Yeah I get it."

After a few minutes of silence between them, Max saw the grid of the Queen Anne streetlights, and wondered where among them the Chase Space was.

_She said she had a new artist thing tonight?_

Max tried to picture the street in her mind, or perhaps remember which cross street the gallery was closest to, but she wasn't so familiar with that part of the city. After a moment of looking for landmarks Max gave up and settled for the knowledge that Victoria was _somewhere_ down there, talking to other photographers, having Hors D'Oeuvres and sipping Champagne...

The thought of Victoria and alcohol made Max anxious, and she wondered how her girlfriend was handling everything.

_Not like I can't find out_ , Max realized, and pulled out her cell phone.

**Max:** How is your gallery thing going?

She stared at the screen waiting for a response for a few minutes, growing more anxious as each passed. Just when she was about to stow the phone and resign herself to spending the rest of the evening nervous, it chimed, and a text from Victoria appeared.

**Victoria:** About as shitty as I expected but the food doesn't suck at least

**Victoria:** And my parents have pretty much forgotten the big drama

**Victoria:** Unless they're just waiting to hold it over me later

**Victoria:** What are you up to?

**Max:** Trying to figure out if I can see you from up here

**Victoria:** Dana dragged you up the needle?

**Max:** It's not so bad. We hit it right before sunset so we got to see that

**Max:** It was beautiful really

**Victoria:** You take a selfie of it?

There was no scowl face or winky emoji to tell Max how friendly Victoria's teasing was, but Max decided to assume the best.

**Max:** That's not how selfies work

**Max:** But yes :)

The third photo of the day couldn't be uploaded any easier than the other two; there were many things Max loved about the Polaroid format, but that was a major drawback.

**Victoria:** Never change Maxine Caulfield

**Max:** You either Tori

**Victoria:** Shit g2g ttyl

Max wondered what sort of party-related emergency cut their conversation short, and looked down at the blanket of lights below her for a bit longer. She could have stared all night, but after a few minutes her phone chimed with another text message--this time from Dana reminding them all that they had a five hour drive, and it was time to wrap things up. By the time she'd managed to herd them all back into the elevator it was 7:25, well behind the schedule that she'd prepared.

But of course, they couldn't leave without hitting the gift shop. Warren insisted, and the rest of the group concurred. Max shared an exasperated glance with Dana, and could hear her muttering "If I fall asleep driving back and kill us all it'll be Warren's fault," as the gang left her behind once again and stampeded into the shop.

Max was expecting another gift shop like the one on Edwards Island, but that one couldn't hold a candle to the mass-produced plethora on display here. Any memento you could imagine, they'd taken it and made it in the shape of the space needle--or failing that, just printed it on the side and slapped a pricetag on. There were pens, erasers, bracelets, mugs, pencil kits, books; even the 'space noodles' macaroni made an appearance again. If one didn't need any of those things they could just buy a small bronze Space Needle statue to display--or more likely put in a box in the attic until the inevitable estate sale.

There were a few non-Space Needle-themed items too, though. Taylor got a t-shirt that said "I rode the SLUT" even though they never actually went on any street cars. Kate found an enormous mug with the Starbucks logo on it--the _real_ Starbucks logo, topless woman and all--and she giggled at it a few times but bought it anyways.

Trevor got a Nirvana t-shirt, and Alyssa picked up a snow globe, explaining awkwardly to the cashier that she had a collection at home. Brooke got a keychain, and Max caught herself thinking about how useless it was until she remembered her own keyring and decided to keep her mouth shut.

 

Max volunteered to find a bus back to her house, so the rest of the gang could get back sooner, but Dana insisted on driving her home. "Hey, we're here to see _you_ , not leave you stranded downtown."

Max had a feeling that they wouldn't be getting out of the van when they dropped her off, and that would make goodbye hugs logistically challenging, but the most important people--Kate, Alyssa, Dana--were within reach.

It was as Dana was pulling onto Meridian Avenue that Max had an impulse that she couldn't ignore. It took her a second to decide exactly how she would do it, but there was enough space between the two front seats that... _yeah, that's perfect._

She put her plan into motion just as soon as Dana pulled up on the parking brake, squeezing herself between the two front seats with her camera held out as far forward as she could reach. Dana leaned into the frame without being told, and so did Juliet--she even managed to look like she didn't think the whole exercise was a stupid waste of time. Luckily they left enough room in frame for Kate, Alyssa, and the rest of the gang in the back, and Max at the bottom of the frame.

Just like that Max had her last photo for the day. It wasn't going to win any contests, or wow patrons in a gallery, but this was a photo Max needed to take all the same. The flash illuminated the first two rows, and the dome lights that dotted the van's ceiling took care of the back. As it faded into view she saw every face in the van--some bigger than others, but they were all there, and all hoping that she got better. They were also probably hoping that she would come back, but Dana had been understanding, and she hoped the rest of them would too, if it came to that.

"Oh, hey, that reminds me!" Alyssa shouted at them from the back of the van, just as Max was stepping out the sliding door. "Don't go yet! I got something for you."

She didn't explain _what_ had reminded her of _what_ , nor _how_ ; instead she rummaged through her bag, searching intently for whatever it was. After a few seconds she pulled out a Polaroid and leaned out the door to hand it to Max. "This is yours."

Max only saw the back of the photo, but knew which one it was from the jagged tear right down the center. She didn't really want it, but she wanted to make a big deal out of it even less, so she held out her hand to accept it.

"I'm sorry."

What Alyssa had to be sorry for, Max couldn't begin to guess. The photo was in better shape than when it had been loaned out, with a careful repair and extra tape on the back for reinforcement.

"What fo-"

Alyssa wasn't letting go of the photo.

She was staring at Max, or perhaps _through_ her, and wearing an expression that was oddly blank, but somehow still deeply sad.

"Alyssa, what the? Let g-"

Alyssa's gaze didn't waver one bit, and it was immediately unnerving. Max looked down at the photo between them, and felt it shimmering slightly, not exactly as it did when trying to jump through one, but not something that could be explained by any earthly means.

"I'm sorry." The voice was coming from Alyssa's mouth, but it wasn't Alyssa's.

None of the other girls in the van seemed to find it strange. In fact, they weren't moving at all. Nor were the birds on the roof across the street, nor the traffic on the freeway in the distance.

The wind was gone too, but Max still felt ice in her veins as she realized what was happening.

"You're... who are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although you might not have guessed from reading the last two chapters, I've never actually been to Seattle. That will be changing in the next few weeks, as I spend the first half of September on a road trip up the West coast. I may or may not have internet access--or chapters ready to publish--during that time, but I'll do what I can. There will definitely be one posted next week, though--I'm not _that_ mean!


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